In the Poppy Fields
by misslucy21
Summary: He could not stop her from dashing against the stones, from falling, despite his best efforts. As he prepared to try again, he wondered if in this, the last chance he might get, if his best would be good enough.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer, yadda yadda  
This here's a long one...at this point, we've reached AU territory

Order of Operations: "Beyond Misconceptions," "Nervous", "Invincible Summer", "Choices Revisited", "Winter Warriors", "Garden Thoughts", "In the Poppy Fields"

In the Poppy Fields

* * *

Prelude

He is 5 and his big sister is teaching him how to swim. She is 3, and people are screaming threats and slander until a door slams with a certain finality that she will always remember.

He's 6 and watching the rabbi read the burial service for his sister, knowing it's his fault she's dead. He doesn't learn to smile again until he's 8. She awakens one morning when she is 6 to find that her eldest brother had gone so far away it's the next day there already.

At 9, he traces blue numbers tattooed indelibly into his grandfather's arm while he sits awkwardly in the older man's lap, listening to his first explanation of hatred and ignorance.

He's 11 and chasing Miriam Cohen around the parking lot after Temple because she made fun of his new tie and embarrassed him. She is a 9-year- old foster child with a broken collarbone.

He stands as tall and straight as he can and reads slowly from the Book of Numbers at his Bar Mitzvah when he's 13. She is 12, rescued by a man who is her brother in blood, but not spirit.

He's 15 and giving up the swim team for his newfound love, the debate team. Two years later, he sits on a front porch eating ice cream with his parents in celebration of the first argument he ever won against his father. She recoils one evening when she is 14 and finds her not-brother lying dead on the floor of the bedroom next to hers. The next year, she stands uncertainly in a dim hallway in Barstow, California, suddenly realizing that she has no choice but to trust a father she barely remembers.

At 19, he pulls an all-nighter as the reason for his procrastination sleeps in his bed across the room and thinks futilely about breaking up with her because he's going to miss the dean's list for the second semester in a row. She's 17, looking warily at her new college roommate, who is so much more sophisticated, and so much more outgoing than she is.

She clutches an ER nurse's hand at the age of 19 and contemplates the irony of miscarrying a baby she had intended to abort in 48 hours. He's 23, studying for an ethics exam while his new girlfriend lays her head on his lap and tries her best to distract him. Determined to be one of the youngest to receive a masters at graduation, she reads her way through age 21, pausing only to eat and sleep when the no longer intimidating Grace makes her.

When he's 27, he gets a job in the Senate majority leader's office, and people come to notice him. She's 25, sleep deprived and slamming a staple gun home on the palm of her hand as she tries to impress an older man who will become a friend.

He's 29 when he meets a young lawyer who has a gift for imagery and persuasion and the two become fast friends. She's standing crying at Grace and Jack's funeral, feeling lost and alone at 27.

He jumps ship at 31, going to work for a Senator from Texas, who has a shot at bigger and better things. She's 29 in LA, wondering when she'll stop falling for jerks who waltz into her life for six weeks, then stop calling. In Sacramento, she's 30 and suddenly shy when a nice guy asks her out to dinner.

Feeling lost, torn and confused, he's rescued at age 34 by an old friend of his father's and in turns rescues his lawyer friend from the shackles of corporate law. She's 31 when she makes the long drive back to LA, wiping tears away and trying not to choke on the certainty that she has just lost her only chance at marriage. Later that year, she's fired from her first salaried job. Eighteen hours later, she's on a plane to some town in New Hampshire that she's never heard of, where it's freezing to her California acclimated blood.

35 is a year of unmeasured joy and sorrow as he loses his father, but gains a sister while electing the real thing to the presidency. While she's 32, she accomplishes quite a lot, including electing a president and finding people who care for her, including a new brother.

She spends most of her 33rd year wondering if she'll have a job the next day. At age 34, she's shoved roughly to the ground, cracking her head on the pavement as a window in a police car explodes over her head. The pain and adrenaline from that experience is the only thing that holds her together as she deals with crisis after crisis all the while praying that her best friend- her brother- will survive fourteen hours of surgery and the resultant aftermath. He almost dies- twice- when he's 37.

That same year, he discovers the tarnished humanity of his President, but grips the hand of the woman who has become his sister in hope and love when his boss turns out to be the real thing all over again. She's still 34 when the sky falls, but she's 35, her birthday forgotten in the tide of events, as she stands in an overcrowded room and watches a good man stick his hands in his pockets, smile and look away in response to the question she told him not to answer first.

She'd fought her way up from nothing, and when she reached the summit of the mountain, she found that the drive that had propelled her up the rocky road had been exhausted. It was not strong enough to meet the buffeting winds of the peaks, and as such, she found herself blown backwards and sideways against the rocks. He'd climbed through the valleys and over ever increasing hills until he reached the same summit. But although he seemed to have gained more strength and endurance from his journey, he was almost powerless to prevent the winds from sweeping her completely away. He could not stop her from dashing against the stones, from falling, despite his best efforts. As he prepared to try again, he wondered if in this, the last chance he might get, if his best would be good enough.


	2. Ambush

1. Ambush

* * *

She calls me from the cold  
Just when I was low, feeling short of stable  
And all that she intends  
And all she keeps inside, isn't on the label

"Shimmer", Fuel

* * *

August 19, 2001

I am quite possibly the only person in the world who knows that CJ was hysterical after the shooting not because she had just been shot at or because Sam had cracked her head when he pushed her down. Both of these things were probably contributing factors, but they weren't the real reasons. The real reason was the gunpowder, the cordite smell. I'm willing to bet that smell is instantly identifiable to anyone who had ever fought in a war, been in law enforcement, or spent any significant amount of time around guns. It's also instantly identifiable if your brother killed himself in the bedroom next to yours by shooting himself first in the foot, then in the left hand, and finally through his mouth. Once, when she talked about Mark, she told me how the cordite smell lingered in the house for what seemed like forever. It had permeated the whole house, and they couldn't get rid of it because it was winter and all the windows had storm windows and were sealed against the cold. Months later, it would still hang just at the edge of her perception, although she admits that was probably illusionary. That smell freaks her out so much that it is a serious act of will to watch fireworks outside. She can do it, but she's usually pale and shaken afterwards, and given the choice, she'd much rather watch them inside. I remember, several days after I'd been shot, I watched CJ sitting by my bed as she stayed with me in order to give Donna a break. She thought I was asleep and I could see that she was still terrified, although she was probably putting up a pretty good front for everyone. At that moment, I said a quick thankful prayer that CJ hadn't been the one to find me. I know she'd seen me, but she hadn't been alone when she did.

Right now, I'm not certain of much, as I sit here in a car speeding through DC with prayer and fear lacing my panicked thoughts, but I am fairly certain that CJ did not choose a gun to end her life. I don't think she could ever consciously look at one up close, let alone touch it. This thought is my only comfort. Leo told me, when we got in the car, that if she'd done anything else to herself, we would probably get there in time to save her. At most, she's had 30 minutes. Pills don't work that fast, and Leo thinks it would take longer than that for slit wrists to bleed out. I hope he's right, but I can't help but remember something I heard when I was in college. Someone I vaguely knew through my roommate's friend's roommate committed suicide when we were sophomores. This girl told me that if someone close to you committed suicide it would be more likely for you to consider an attempt later on. I don't know if that's true, but she made it sound reasonable. She said that if you know someone who did it, the idea becomes real to you and it makes it an option that people who have no experience with it would not necessarily consider. I'm not too sure what I think about that, considering my own actions last Christmas, but Mark was probably the one person who was the closest to CJ in her whole life. I try not to think about the possible ramifications of this as I burst out of the car and punch CJ's access code into the door keypad with trembling fingers.

* * *

Days like this, I don't know what to do with myself  
All day and all night  
I wander the halls along the walls and under my breath  
I say to myself  
I need fuel to take flight -

"Sullen Girl", Fiona Apple

* * *

February 25, 2001

Today I swear I can feel every single scar on my body, both inside and out. Oddly enough, though, it's the faint white lines that track almost forgotten over my pale skin that throb more than the internal keloids. I feel old today. Decrepit and desiccated. As I lay on the couch with my eyes closed against their tingling pain, I wonder when I went from being mistaken for being much younger than my years to being mistaken for being older than I am. When did I become the voice of maturity? God knows I wasn't always. I feel Josh reaching out to brush my hair off my face, because he thinks I'm asleep. My hand shoots up and grabs his wrist before he can do so- good to know that my reflexes are still lightning quick, even if I do feel about 90 years old. It's not that I mind him waking me like that, it's that I still have to put the lid on the day and I don't feel like fixing my hair before I do that. Don't ask why I'm laying on my couch. I open my eyes and let go of Josh's hand.

"Sorry," he says softly. I nod. "What are you doing?"

"Leo said I couldn't put the lid on until he talked to me. Something's up, but he's not sure if it's going to be a thing, or a non-issue." I explain.

He nods, understanding. "Had dinner yet?"

I know Josh measures my emotional state by my nutritional intake. Unfortunately, I'm also fairly sure he knows I skipped lunch today, so the dinner question becomes crucial. "No," I admit.

"Ok," he says, not saying anything more, but I know I'm probably in for a force-feeding or a lecture. He sits down on the floor with his back against the side of my desk and regards me for a long moment. I attempt an innocent face, but I know I fail. Today I am not an ingénue. "So, I have a question for you," he says finally.

"What's that?" I ask, fairly certain I really don't want to know.

"Last week, when your automatic response to everything was "I quit," was that your idea of letting me know you're getting ready to run on me? Because if it was, I have to tell you, when we made the deal, I was hoping you'd be a bit more explicit than that," he says, looking at me with penetrating eyes.

I look at him, tired. I'm really not up for this conversation, but it's no good to lie. "Yeah, I know."

"So then?" he asks.

"I don't know," I admit. "It just..." I trail off, unsure how to explain it. "I just realized how long we'd been here."

Josh doesn't say anything for a long moment. I wonder if he can feel his scars, too. Then I wonder if we started adding them up, who would win. "Are you scared?"

I laugh, humorlessly. "Josh, you've known me for what, three years, now? Have I ever not been scared?" I ask. He winces in reply. It was almost a cruel question. He is the only one who knows just how scared I am. We say nothing for almost five minutes. Then a knock on my door startles Josh into standing, embarrassed.

Leo sticks his head in. "You can call the lid," he tells me.

"What's up?" I ask. "It may still be nothing, but if you get a question about South America, you don't know anything," he replies. I give him a curious look. "You don't know anything, CJ."

I nod and stand up. Leo and Josh both follow me down to the pressroom. I know they'll talk while watching me from the doorway, which is oddly comforting tonight. Tonight is not complicated, but someone has watched me during almost every difficult briefing I've ever done. My first White House briefing, Josh, Toby and Sam all came down to watch me. So far as I know, they hadn't planned it that way, it just happened. When things are likely to be especially tough, Josh will usually find a moment to walk me to the pressroom, and watch me, if he can. Sam has been known to pop into the back when he thinks I may need some moral support. And Toby watches every single briefing I do on television. The only time I've ever felt truly alone up here was after the shooting when I really was alone. I don't think I'd have been so dazed if someone, anyone, had been lurking in the back. I put the lid on, and had the mild pleasure of smacking Danny down. He asked what took me so long, and I told him he should be glad it took so long because I could tell them all about these tax abatement things that I really don't understand. Carol and I paused by Josh and Leo as the pressroom emptied. I counted slowly to sixty, knowing that the building would be devoid of press by the time I finished.

Carol must have been counting too, because just as I reached the end, she turned to me and said, "Do you need anything?"

Thinking quickly, I shook my head. "No, go on home. Have fun with the kids." She flashes me a grateful smile and slips away. I know her boyfriend's custody arrangements just changed so that he has the kids every other week. I also know that he and his ex-wife changed it so that Carol can be more involved in their lives, because her boyfriend is ready to propose to her as soon as the kids are comfortable with the idea. I try not to be jealous of the fact that my assistant's love life is much more fulfilling than mine.

I look at Leo expectantly, waiting for him to explain South America. He sighs, and begins. "There's some backlash over Colombia," he tells me.

"Against us?" I ask uncertain. I don't want to think too hard about Colombia, just as I hadn't wanted to think too hard about India and Pakistan.

"No, against Colombia. Brazil wants to flex some muscle, show how democratic they are, but a few other countries are trying to either avoid being involved or to calm Cardoso down because they don't want to be between the two. We're not getting involved, but it could have aftershocks up here later if it gets heavy," he explains as I nod understanding. "So, while I'm not saying don't go home, I am saying you might get paged later tonight." It's not terribly late, and I wouldn't be going home immediately anyhow. I have briefing notes on those abatements and several other things to do before I can leave.

"Can you give me odds?" I ask.

"Better than a 50/50 chance. Probably more like 65/35," he tells me.

I close my eyes and bite my lip. "Ok." I tell them without looking. "I'm going to go down and take a shower. I'll be back here in 30 minutes, come get me if you need me."

"You're staying?" Leo asks.

"Yeah, might as well, odds like that," I say, looking at him.

Josh nods. "Go. We'll get some food and get some work done."

Leo shrugs. "I have to get back," he said.

"Ok," Josh says, reaching out to push me gently towards the door. "We'll see you in a bit."

I wince as the hot water hits my skull. It makes the scar under my hair tingle and I close my eyes against memory. The water manages to find all of them, all my scars. The one on the side of my foot that I got when I tripped on a sharp rock when I was four. The lighter patches on both legs from too many badly skinned knees. The faint line across my left collarbone where my stepfather hit me is thankfully only visible in certain light, since most of my shirts won't cover it. My appendectomy scar from when I was 16, my only surgery. The tiny little bump in the center of my right hand as a reminder of meeting Toby and the advisability of not handling sharp objects while overtired. The jagged shape on my lower back from falling against a tree the time I went rock climbing with Jeff, my ex- boyfriend. And finally, the one I've never seen, the scar hidden under my hair. I don't know how big it is, I don't know what shape it is, I just know it's my souvenir of glass and asphalt and bullets.

It's the last one that changed everyone. The instant that made everyone different. It made the President a little quicker to say we've done a good job. It made Leo a little quicker to kick our asses when we screw up, but also a little more protective of us. It made Charlie both more distant and more clingy, as though so long as he had us within an arms length, we'd be ok. It made Toby a little more outspoken, a little more vocal, but a little quieter all the same. It made Sam angry, made him the angry boy he never was. It made Donna watch us all more carefully, made Margaret, Carol, Bonnie, Ginger and Cathy all a little more reluctant to let us out of their sights. It made Zoey withdraw, just enough to be noticeable, but not enough that we never see her. And it made Josh be someone else entirely. But I didn't change, I just witnessed.

I step out of the shower to dry off and find that my shirt has fallen into a puddle of water. Cursing under my breath, I pull the rest of my clothes on, glad I wore a decent camisole, one that can double as a tank top, because I don't have an extra shirt. I was wearing my extra shirt already. _I'll just find Donna and borrow the sweater she keeps around_, I think as I climb the steps. It's not freezing in here, but I'll be shivering in about five minutes. Reaching my office, and stashing my shower gear, I can hear Josh and Donna talking in his office.

Before I can interrupt, Josh steps into my office. "You're tiebreaker. Pizza or Chinese?" he asks. I consider a moment, but the fact that I've started to shiver makes up my mind. "Chinese."

"Cool," he says and walks away before I can tell him what I want. I start to try and stop him, but he's already yelling for Donna. "We're getting Chinese, CJ wants sweet and sour chicken, hot and sour soup and a vegetarian egg roll."

"Spareribs?" Donna yells back.

"No, she can share mine. I want those, General Tso's and shrimp fried rice." he calls. I blink hard. Stop it, Claudia Jean, I tell myself. So Josh knows what Chinese food you'd order. So Donna knows that I'd probably want spareribs too. What's the big deal? But it plays into the whole "I quit" thing...I get too comfortable, I get too close, I get too scared, I run. But Josh won't let me run, not over this. Not just because people know what Chinese food I like to eat. I'm standing there with my arms wrapped around myself to stop the shaking when Josh reappears.

"You cold?" he asks.

"Yeah, a bit," I tell him.

"Come here," he says, holding an arm out to me. I hesitate, but let him give me a hug and briskly rub my back and shoulders before he lets go. I know he wants to mother me a little bit, and as always, I don't want him to do it. I know why, though, so I give in to him. "What happened to your blouse?"

"It fell off the bench while I was showering and got wet," I explain.

"That's no good. You want Donna's sweater?" he asks. I nod and he goes to find it. "Here," he says, offering me the grey cardigan. "She won't mind."

It's only a little too short. Donna's not much shorter than I am, which is good, because had it been Cathy's, it would have looked like a ¾ sleeve cropped sweater. "Thanks," I say.

"No problem. Food should be here in about half an hour." He looks at me carefully, and I know he's wondering if we should continue our conversation. I meet his eyes without too much difficulty.

"Ok. I need to talk to the President about the Surgeon General," I tell him, solving his dilemma. I really do need to talk to the President; it's not a lie. It also could wait until the morning, but Josh probably doesn't know that.

"All right," he said softly. He got the message, but he wasn't happy about it. I nodded, then walked away. I know Josh wants to know what's wrong, but how can I tell him if I can't define it myself?

Josh wants to mother me because he needs to make up for lost time. We lost time, we lost each other in some weird fashion. I spent time in August, time in the fall spelling Donna when Josh was in the hospital and then when he was home and couldn't be left alone. His mother was there, but somehow Donna and I couldn't just leave her alone with Josh. We both knew about his father dying, and how Rachel Lyman took care of him. We didn't want her to have to face memories alone. And on some level, I think Donna thought she'd lose him if she wasn't with him as much as possible. I don't know what I thought. But Josh wasn't the same after. There was this curious distance, and God help me, I was all right with that. It was enough that he was alive, that he was working. I could handle everything else. And then he started to scare me. He started acting like Mark had sometimes, and I was scared. I didn't tell anyone, because I didn't want it to be true. If I feel guilty about anything, it's that. It's the fact that I recognized something was wrong as far back as November and didn't say anything to anyone. I didn't do it because of the political ramifications. I did it because I was too petrified to move on it. So then, Christmas...happened...and Josh made it through. We talked a lot, Christmas Day. Just the two of us. He felt like he had to apologize, and it took all my strength not to tell him how scared I'd been, and how guilty I felt. He knew, though, just because he's Josh and knows things about me that no one else does. That's when he started making up for the time we lost, making up for August and what came after. And most of the time I let him. But now...now I don't even know what I feel. I just notice how everything changed. I just feel how it seems like things are trying to reach out and catch me, hold on to me. And I don't know what to do about that.

"Hello, dear, is there something you needed?" I jerk out of my reverie to find Mrs. Landingham smiling at me.

"Oh, ma'am, I'm sorry. Yes, I need to see him, if he's available," I say, smiling back a little bit.

"Yes, he is. Hang on a moment, I'll let him know you're here." I watch Mrs. Landingham walk quietly into the Oval Office, then reappear after a moment. "You can go right on in, CJ."

"Thank you," I say softly, walking towards the Oval.

"CJ, come in, have a seat," the President says, smiling at me. He's sitting on one of the couches. I smile a little and seat myself on the couch across from him. "What can I do for you?" "

I just wanted to keep you up to date about the Surgeon General, sir," I reply. "They still after you about that?" he asked, shaking his head.

"It's mostly become a non-story at this point," I admit.

"Well, it is a non-story. I wouldn't worry about it, CJ." he tells me.

"No sir," I answer. "So, anything else new? I feel like I haven't had much time for conversation with any of you lately," he says.

"Nothing, really. We're just waiting right now." I explain.

"Ah, yes. South America." He looks at me for a long moment, then says, "I didn't apologize for yelling at you and Josh when I came back from Japan."

"It's not necessary, sir," I tell him, shrugging.

"You didn't deserve what I said, of course it's necessary. I know you and Josh were really running the show that week, and you did a good job. What happened was out of your control, and your damage control was exactly right," he says, looking me in the eye.

"Thank you, sir," I said softly.

Before the President can say something else, Charlie pops into the office. "Sir, Mrs. Bartlet is on the phone for you."

"Thank you, Charlie," he says, rising. I climb to my feet as well.

"If you'll excuse me, sir," I say politely asking dismissal.

"Yes, of course. You have a good night, CJ," he tells me.

"You too sir. Tell the First Lady I say hello," I say, smiling.

"Will do. Good night." He was already reaching for the phone. I nod and slip out the door.

"Would you like a cookie, dear?" Mrs. Landingham asked as I passed her desk. I hesitate a moment, unsure of what I've done to deserve one. "They're snickerdoodles, which if I remember are one of your favorites," she adds.

I smile at her and nod. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're quite welcome. You're too thin, CJ. Got to keep your strength up around here," she tells me as she hands me one of the cinnamon scented cookies.

"Yes ma'am," I say dutifully as she waves me back to work. I eat the cookie slowly as I walk down the hallway. It's fairly quiet; most people must have decided the odds were good enough to head home. Toby's desk lamp is on, but he's not in his office. Neither is Sam, but his briefcase is sitting on the chair. Bonnie and Ginger are both gone, and I don't see Cathy. I circle back to my side of the office and find Donna standing by her desk, her phone to her ear.

"There you are. The food's in Leo's office, go on and eat," she tells me.

"Ok. What are you doing?" I ask her.

"Calling Ryan before he goes to work. He's probably in the shower, since he's not picking up. " She sighs.

"Oh." I nod.

Donna put the phone down with a sigh. "Let's go eat before it gets cold and they eat all our food," she tells me. I follow her to Leo's office and find Josh, Toby and Sam sitting at the table. "Hey," Donna says, sitting down between Josh and Sam.

"Hey yourself," Josh says. Sam and Toby both nod at her and me as I slide into a vacant chair. Toby pushes my soup towards me, and I nod a thank you to him. I start to sip as I look around. Leo's not there and Josh is doing damage to the spareribs he ordered for us to share. Toby appears to be absorbed in his Cashew Chicken. Sam wasn't eating, and looked tired.

"What's up?" I ask, just to say something.

"Nothing so far," Toby tells me. "Good job not giving anything away."

"I didn't know there was something to give away. Leo didn't tell me until afterwards," I reply.

"Doesn't matter," Sam tells me. I nod, tilting my head at him and giving him a curious look. "Yeah, I'm just gonna go, ok?" he says, looking around at everyone.

"Ok," Josh said slowly, but not protesting. He knows what's going on, I realize, but don't say anything.

"You want some of this to take with you?" Donna asked. "I can pack some of it up for you."

"Nah, you guys go ahead and eat it. I ate already anyhow," he tells her. She nods. "I'll see you all in the morning."

"Night, Sparky," I tell him, getting a tired smile. Sam walks away as Donna shoots Josh a curious look.

"What?" Josh asks.

"What's the matter with him?" she asks.

"Nothing that you can do anything about," Josh said, not unkindly. Donna looked at him funny, but nodded, and went back to her Moo Shu Pork.

"I have a question," I say finally, to break the silence. Everyone looks up at me, so I continue. "Why are we eating in Leo's office?"

"Because I'm hungry too," Leo says from behind me as he walks through the door.

"Oh," I reply, scooting my chair over to make room. I nibble at my egg roll as Josh and Toby get into an argument about the blue ribbon campaign. The argument escalates into a full-fledged screaming match between the two of them, and I abruptly lose what little appetite I had. I can handle arguing. I can even handle yelling. I can usually handle Toby going at someone's throat, especially with Josh, only because it happens about once a week. But tonight, I can't do it. Donna shoots Josh a disgusted look and glances at Leo for permission before picking up her carton and leaving. I would get up and go too, but I can't move. This is a very familiar feeling, this paralysis, but it doesn't make it less nauseating. I stop eating altogether, and just sit quiet.

Leo notices, and a beat later speaks up. "That's enough. Take it outside, I want to eat in peace, thank you."

"My office," Toby says automatically, and the argument resumes as soon as they pass the threshold. Leo looks about to say something to me when the phone rings. He answers it, says something quietly to the person on the other end and exits into the Oval. I continue to sit and stare at my food, since Leo didn't tell me to leave too, and I don't want to hear Josh and Toby fight. About a half hour passes. Leo doesn't come back, but I start nibbling again. I've managed to finish my soup and egg roll by the time Josh comes back.

"Hey," he says softly.

"Hi," I reply.

"Sorry." He sits down next to me. I shrug.

"You done?" he asks, surveying the food still on the table. He and Toby had taken their boxes with them while they argued.

"Yeah." I nod.

"You look tired," he says gently. I nod again. "You can take a nap," he suggests.

"I should get some stuff done," I reply.

"It'll be there in the morning. You're ready for the morning briefing, right?" he asks. I nod again. "Then come take a nap."

I raise my eyebrow at his phrasing, but he's already standing with a hand outstretched. I stand up and follow him back to my office. He sits on the couch, but I go check my email. The weekly one from my dad. One from Sam that looks like an apology from the subject heading. Two from Carol, reminding me of things she forgot to tell me. Nothing urgent, nothing that demands my immediate attention. Nothing to keep me from taking a nap. And I am quite tired. I walk over to the couch, and Josh pats the cushion next to him. I sit, but he grabs my arm and gently pulls me down so my head is in his lap and I have no choice but to curl my legs up on the other end. He plays with my hair, and it's rather soothing.

"So. Are you running?" he asks softly.

I don't respond right away, but I eventually sigh. "No."

"Are you unhappy?" he asks, more tentatively.

"Not any more than usual," I tell him. I look up to see him nod at that. I can't be anything other than honest with Josh when he asks these questions. If I am, he knows it, and then it becomes more about why I'm lying to him, than what the answers are.

"But you're going to stay." It is a statement, not a question.

"Yes." I don't add anything, and he doesn't say anything, either. We sit like this until I find myself drifting off. The last thing I hear is him whisper that he's glad and he loves me, but I'm almost certain he thinks I'm asleep.

A knock at the door makes me jerk awake and see Leo poking his head into my office. I try to sit up, but wind up rolling off the couch instead. Josh is fast asleep, and doesn't notice me moving. "Leo," I start, but he waves me quiet.

"Don't worry about it," he tells me.

"Nothing's going on," I tell him.

"CJ, honestly, don't worry about it. I'm not concerned about you and Josh, I know you guys are close. Don't make a habit of it, is all I ask," he says, smiling a little bit. I have a feeling he's giving us a little leeway because of how Josh was at Christmas, and how I was a couple of weeks before after the State of the Union. I don't mind, though, since it means he won't lecture us.

"What's up?" I ask, scrubbing my hand over my still burning eyes.

"Nothing. It's over, nothing happened," he informs me.

"So what do I say in the morning?" I ask.

"You say that we were aware of the situation and monitoring it, but that it was a purely South American matter and we are not stepping in where we're not invited. Things were resolved to everyone's satisfaction, and that's the end of it," he shrugs. I nod. "You should wake Sleeping Beauty up and both go home to bed. It's only 1."

"Ok," I sigh.

"See you later, sleep well," Leo says as he exits.

"Josh?" I say, poking his arm gently.

"Mmm?" he murmurs.

"Wake up. Leo says it's over and we should go home." I say, putting on the shoes that had fallen off my feet while I was sleeping.

"Oh." He yawned and stretched. "Ok."

"Did you send Donna home yet?" I ask as I find my bag.

"Yeah, long time ago. What time is it?" he asks.

"About 1, I guess." I look at him, tired.

"Gives you about 4 more hours to sleep," he tells me, standing up and walking into his office. I glance out the window and see that it's snowing a little. He comes back with his backpack and his coat. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"I drove," I protest.

"It's late, I'll drive you home," he says in a no-nonsense voice. I'm too tired to argue, and just let him help me into my coat and lead me out of my office, flicking off the lights as he shuts the door. After all...if our scars were competition, we'd both win. And I'm weary enough to miss our lost time. So for tonight, I'll let Josh mother me. Just tonight.

* * *

it's not the wind that cracked your shoulder   
and threw you to the ground   
who's there that makes you so afraid   
you're shaken to the bone   
and I don't understand   
you deserve so much more than this

"Good Enough," Sarah McLachlan

* * *

August 19, 2001

"Sam?" Ainsley pushed her head into his office.

"Come on in," he sighed.

She sat down in the chair next to his desk, and regarded him a moment. "Any news?" she asked.

"Not really. They, um, think now she has some kind of head injury, but they don't think it was, um..." he trailed off.

"Self-inflicted?" she finished for him.

"Right. They can't figure out how it happened. I guess the cops are going to look at her place though." Sam glanced at the clock. "Someone ought to be calling soon. They did some kind of blood test to see what she took."

"She didn't," Donna said from the doorway. "Tox screen was negative, blood alcohol level was unappreciable," she said, reading off a scrap of paper. Her eyes were red and Sam stood up and reached out. She came over and accepted the hug, then settled herself on the edge of his desk as he sat back down. "Toby's going to call as soon as they finish the CT scan."

"Can we, like, go down and see her?" Ainsley asked with uncharacteristic brevity.

Donna shook her head. "They're only letting Josh and Toby see her, because they're listed as next of kin. Leo's still there, but they won't even let him in. And Toby and Josh only get to see her for a couple of minutes at a time."

Sam nodded. It was why Leo had sent Donna and him back to the White House.

Ainsley nodded. "Do they know why?"

"Why this happened?" Sam asked. "Not that I know."

"The shrink was debating about the note, Leo said," Donna explained. "On one hand, she left a note. On the other hand, it's not a typical suicide note," Donna finished, her voice almost breaking on the last words.

After a moment, Ainsley asked, "What did it say?"

Donna sighed. "Look in the green box. I love you, see you after, love CJ," she replied. "Suicide notes usually apologize, or explain, or at least say goodbye, the doctor said."

"How did Josh know something was wrong then?" Sam asked. "I couldn't figure that out."

"I'm not really sure," Donna replied, regrouping. "I think it had something to do with a promise CJ made. She told him awhile back, before the grand jury, that she wouldn't leave. I think, though, there was something that said she'd let him know if she changed her mind. Leo thought the green box meant something, but I think it might be the I love you."

"That does seem quite odd, doesn't it," Ainsley said.

"Maybe it wasn't a suicide note. Maybe Josh misread the signals she was sending," Sam said thoughtfully.

"I don't know." Donna admitted. "It's possible she didn't have time to do anything before she fell or whatever."

Sam sat up straighter at Donna's words. He frowned and asked, "The cops are still searching her place?"

"They finished for now. There's only one unknown set of prints. All the others are CJ's, or Senior Staff, which makes sense, because you've all been over there within the month, and CJ doesn't seem to have had time to do much cleaning. You all have airtight alibis, since everyone was either here or on the Hill. They think the unknown set is probably the guy she's been seeing, but they don't have his prints on file. They can't get ahold of him, either. CJ told Josh he'll be away for another week or so," Donna told him.

"Hm," Sam mused. "CJ broke her arm last week."

"She said she fell," Donna said uncertainly. Ainsley nodded in agreement.

"I'm not sure I believe that," Sam said softly. "Look at it. She meets this guy, goes out with him once or twice, tells us it wasn't really anything. We don't even know she's still seeing him until two weeks ago when she and Josh have an argument about it, and the next week, Leo's picking her up from the ER in the middle of the night. And now this mysterious head injury that they can't seem to decide how she gave herself." He paused and looked at Donna and Ainsley. "Can you honestly consider all this and tell me you still believe she fell down those steps?" Ainsley bit her lip and shook her head slowly.

"No," Donna said softly.


	3. Defensive Strategizing

2. Defensive Strategizing

* * *

take a photograph  
to remind you   
of the things you know you will one day forget  
take a side effect   
as a measure of your progress   
take what you give and give what you take   
and as you walk with your breath two feet   
in front of you in the cold  
take a photograph,   
to have and to hold   
take a photograph

"Photograph", Something For Kate

* * *

August 21, 2001

I happen to know that there are four framed photographs in CJ's bedroom. That fact would not be surprising to anyone who has ever been in her kitchen, where photographs of the last three years comprise the basic decorating scheme. But the pictures in the bedroom are the important ones, the ones that really tell something about CJ if you know the back-story. They're the ones that could give something away, so they stay where few people would see them. Three of them sit on her dresser. The first one is a picture of a teenage boy sitting against a large log with a very small girl balancing on one foot on top of the log. The second frame holds a picture of two college age girls on a beach. One girl is tall and skinny with strawberry blonde hair dressed in a sundress and sandals. The other, brown haired girl is wearing overalls over a swimsuit and is curvier and shorter than her companion. They've got their arms around each other's shoulders and are slightly off balance as they aim bright sunny grins at the camera. The third one is a group picture taken in a hotel suite. There are several men dressed in very nice suits and one woman in a simple navy blue dress. It has the feel of some sort of official portrait, but there are words written at the bottom, half obscured by the frame, like a secret meant only for her. The fourth picture frame sits on her nightstand, next to her alarm clock. This frame is one of those hinged ones that hold two photographs. In the left hand side is a picture of a young girl who is sitting on a stair, knees pulled close to her chest, hugging herself. Her wide scared eyes set in her solemn face make her look both older and younger than she probably is. The other half of the frame holds a photograph of a woman wearing an extremely nice suit, standing behind a podium in front of a blue background with a picture of the White House. She's smiling excitedly, and has her arms spread wide, as if to say, "Look at THIS!"

Each of these photographs has significance. The first one is the only picture she has of her and her brother Mark, just as the photograph in her office is the only one she has of her with both of her brothers. She was almost three when it was taken, and her brother was 15. The second one is of CJ and her first actual best friend, a girl named Grace. CJ and Grace were roommates as undergrads at UC Berkeley. Grace died in a car accident in 1995, when her fiancé fell asleep at the wheel and crashed their car into a concrete barrier, killing them both instantly. The photo itself is slightly tattered, since Grace used it as a bookmark in her day planner during their senior year of college. CJ got it after the funeral, when Grace's mother gave it to her. The third picture would be unremarkable, if not for the writing. As a matter of fact, I have a copy of the same picture on my mantle in my apartment. Mine also has writing. It's a photo of the senior staff on Inauguration Day before we left the Bartlet's hotel suite. The President wrote a short note on each copy as a caption. I remember CJ's says "To our very own indomitable Claudia Jean, the very definition of grace under fire. I can't ever tell you how much you've done for me, for Abbey, and for the rest of these boys, but I can tell you you're quite loved for it! Love, Jed Bartlet."

The fourth frame is the most important. It is probably the last thing she actually sees before she takes off her glasses at night, and the first thing she can see when she puts her glasses back on in the morning. The left hand picture is CJ at the age of 9, a week before her stepfather broke her collarbone and she entered foster care for three years. The right hand photo is one of the two I took of her on our first official day of work in the White House. I took it very early in the morning, the first time she really got to be in the pressroom. I know that this frame is her touchstone, her reminder of how very far she's come, of everything she faced down to get here, and everything she lost. I'm probably the only one of her friends who's ever seen it until now.

I'm looking at it as I sit on a bench in the ICU waiting to see her. I'm going to put it by her bed, with her glasses, because I think it just might help in all this mess.

* * *

Even at a time like this when the morning seems so far   
Think that pain belongs to you but it's happened to us all   
It's all right to make mistakes you're only human   
Inside everybody's hiding something   
Take time to catch your breath and choose your moment

"Slide," Dido

* * *

June 4, 2001

"Ms. Cregg, I think we will begin with a few background questions," the special prosecutor, Allen Gelernter began. I try to sit still and not fidget as I nodded. "First of all, how did you become involved with the Bartlet for America Campaign?"

This is an easy question. I take a deep breath and, in my calmest "grand- jury" voice, answer, "Toby Ziegler asked me to join the campaign as a press liaison."

"Did you know Mr. Ziegler previous to this meeting?"

Also an easy question, but one that's slightly trickier. Only answer what you were asked, Claudia Jean. Everyone had drilled this into my brain so hard that I'm finding it difficult to speak unless I was spoken to first. "Yes."

"How long had you known Mr. Ziegler at that point?"

I pause a moment before answering, knowing that I need to be as precise as possible so as to not get trapped in some sort of lie. Giving the date I met Toby wouldn't work, because that's not what I was asked. "A little more than 6 years," I answer. "

You met Mr. Ziegler in 1991, then?" I nod.

"Yes."

"Why did he ask you to join the campaign?"

Ah, now this could be difficult, for both of us. Must be careful about this one. "He told me that Leo McGarry was impressed with the work I had done with EMILY'S List." I reply slowly.

"So, the fact that you were friends did not enter into the equation?" Gelernter asked.

That one really is hard to say. I glance at Babish and Ainsley, but they look completely impassive. "I would imagine it did." I answer, hoping I hadn't delayed too long. Rule 4 of the grand-jury interrogation rules reads don't hesitate more than you have to, because it makes you look like you're choosing between the truth and a lie. Spin, here, apparently is seen as a lie.

"But he didn't mention that as a reason."

It's more a statement than a question, but I shake my head anyway. "No. He did not."

"I see." He pauses to shuffle some papers. "And where did you go to school?"

"I graduated from University of California at Berkeley." I answer, unsure of what that has to do with anything.

"Where did you attend high school?"

I blink, but answer quickly: "I actually went to 6 high schools."

"Six? That's quite a few. What were they?"

I take a deep breath, then rattle off, "New Madrid County Central High, Trinity High, Chico High, Rim of the World High, Portola High, and John Marshall High."

"And are all of those in California?" he asked, with raised eyebrows.

I freeze for just a second before answering, "No." I have no idea where he's going with this, and I'm sure it's not going to be good.

"I see." He glances down at a piece of paper in his hand. "Your name is Claudia Cregg, yes?"

"Yes," I answer, forcing myself not to say my name is Claudia Jean. Not Claudia. My mother used to call me Claudia and she always put such venom into it. My father can call me Claudia, but that's only because he's my father and because he convinced me he named me that because it was the most beautiful name he could think of when I was born. I am CJ to most people, or Claudia Jean to a select few, and even they don't get to call me that often.

"But it used to be Claudia Martensen?" he asks me.

I feel my eyes widening unconsciously. Stop this, stop it, Oliver...Ainsley, someone stop this..."Yes," I say, trying to ignore the fact that my stomach feels like I just swallowed glass.

"Were you married?" he asks.

"No," I manage around my fear. I attempt a deep breath in preparation of the questions I will have to answer in this room full of strangers. Answers only one of my closest friends knows, answers my own father doesn't even know completely.

Ainsley gives me a glance as we drive back to the White House. Oliver didn't say a word to me before we left. Ainsley only said I'd done a wonderful job, but then she fell silent, and hasn't said anything since. I think she's embarrassed that she now knows things that no one else knows. I think she's a little scared of me right now, too. When we reach the White House, Toby is waiting for us in the lobby. I see Ainsley exchange a glance with him, apparently consigning my care to him, and leave after squeezing my arm gently.

"How are you?" Toby asks, uncharacteristically solicitous. I just look at him.

"I need Josh," I say. Usually, I am very careful to keep the fact that Josh and I are closer than Toby and I are out of conversations with Toby, but right now, I can't say that I care too much.

"He's on the Hill at a Tobacco thing," Toby pauses, then says gently, "Leo would like to see you, though."

"I need Josh first," I tell him.

Toby knows from long experience not to argue with the tone of voice I'm using. "Ok," he says simply and follows me to Donna's desk.

She smiles sympathetically at me. "How was it?"

"When does he come back?" I ask, without answering her question.

She and Toby exchange a quick look, and I try not to be annoyed. "I don't know. I can page him, if you want," Donna says, trying to be soothing. I debate a moment, then nod. "Ok, hang on." She picks up the phone and dials a number from memory, then another number. We wait silently for the phone to ring. "Josh Lyman," Donna says into the phone. "Hey. When are you going to be done?" She pauses then holds her hand over the phone. "He doesn't know," she says to me. "Is it important?"

I think about it a moment, then decide it is. "Yeah."

Donna nods, and turns back to the phone. "CJ needs you...yeah, she says it's important...she just got back...I don't know, Joshua, I just know CJ says it's important, and she doesn't...right. Ok, hang on." She turns to me and points at Josh's office. "Go pick it up in there, I'm gonna transfer you."

I pick the phone up as it rings. "Claudia Jean? 'Sup?" Josh asks, sounding worried.

I take a deep breath and pray my voice won't shake. "Per our deal, including the latest reaffirmation, I need out."

"What? Why?" he asks, knowing immediately what I'm talking about.

"Did you ever tell Leo about me?" I ask.

Josh doesn't say anything for a moment, then says quietly, "No. I never thought it was necessary."

"They knew, Josh."

"Gelernter? How?" he whispers incredulously.

"I don't know, but they did. I..." I trail off, not sure what to say next, not sure if I can say anything.

"Ok. First thing I want you to do is transfer the call back to Donna. Then I want you to sit tight. Don't move. I will be there within 30 minutes, can you hang in until I get there?" he asks.

"Yeah, but Josh, Leo wants to talk to me, and I don't know what to tell him, I don't know..."

"Don't worry about that, we'll take care of it when I get there. I promise. We will take care of it," he tells me, confidently.

"Ok," I mumble.

"All right. Transfer the call, I'm on my way." I nod, knowing he can't see me and hit the buttons to send him back to Donna.

Toby watches me pace. I'm very tired of waiting, but I don't have a choice. I told Josh I couldn't go through all of it twice in one day, so he said he'd talk to Leo for me. I knew this day could come, but that doesn't make it any easier now that it's here. Toby doesn't know what's going on. All he knows is Josh told him to watch me. I have a feeling that this has something to do with some agreement the two of them made a long time ago, but I don't really know.

"CJ, Leo would like to see you," Ginger says, poking her head into the office.

I nod at her. "Come with?" I ask Toby softly.

He regards me for a moment, and nods. "Ok."

We walk silently down the hallway towards Leo's office. I hesitate before walking through the door. Josh is leaning on the doorway to the Oval Office. Leo is sitting at his desk and the President is sitting on Leo's couch. I swallow hard and look at Leo.

"CJ," the President says gently. I turn to look at him. "CJ, I am so sorry you had to do that today. Oliver tells me that you were the best first day witness he could have hoped for, which is high praise, I'm told. As for the other, well, CJ, I'm not sure what to say."

"I can have my resignation for you in an hour, sir," I whisper.

"Absolutely not," Leo says. "Absolutely not." I turn to look at Leo and flinch at his angry look. "Oh, CJ," he says, softening. "I'm not angry at you. Not at all. I'm angry about what happened, but not about anything you've done."

"I'm sorry, I'm a little lost here," Toby says, looking from Leo to me.

"Hey, Toby, there you are...Oh!" Sam says, coming into the room. "Oops." He turns to go, but Josh tells him to wait.

Josh looks at me for a moment, and I nod in response to his unasked question. "Sam, shut the door, would you?"

"Yeah, sure. What's going on?" he asks, shutting the door.

"CJ had a rough time today," Leo says, calmly.

"What happened?" Sam asks me.

I take a deep breath. I'm going to have to do this again and I really don't want to go through this. Josh cuts me off. "The quick summary is, the special prosecutor knew some things about CJ's background that aren't common knowledge at all."

Toby looked at me and nodded. Sam just looked confused. "Um, CJ, what is he talking about?"

Leo jumps in, quickly. "Sam, she's had to go through it once today. She does not need to relive it twice."

"It's ok, Leo," I whisper. I take another deep breath, wrap my arms around my middle, and look at Sam and Toby. "My mom had an abusive boyfriend. He got ahold of me once and the consequences were not good. I wound up in foster care for awhile, then when I got out, I eventually left my hometown in Missouri and went and lived with my dad in California." I bite my lip and wait for the reaction.

"What?!?" Sam said incredulously.

"Sam," the President and Josh said simultaneously.

"What the hell did that have to do with your testimony? Why didn't Babish stop it?" Sam asked.

"He couldn't, Sam," I said softly. "You know that. We had to show we could take what they wanted to dish out today. You're the one who explained that to me."

"I know, but that's not what I meant. I mean, how irrelevant can you get?" He pauses a moment, then continues, slightly flustered, "Not that it's irrelevant...I mean..."

"It's ok, Sam, I know what you mean," I reassure him.

"Sam does have a point though," the President says calmly.

"It wasn't entirely irrelevant, sir," I say evenly. "It went to show character."

"I would think," Leo says gently, "That you showed more character in answering the questions than in how they wanted to portray you."

I shrug. "I don't know."

"I do," Toby says, looking at me. I don't meet his gaze.

"At any rate, CJ, you aren't resigning. Not over this," the President says, standing up. "I don't even want to hear that sort of talk from you or anyone."

"It could be a press nightmare," I protest. "The secrecy of it all..."

"And if it comes to that, we'll deal with it. We've dealt with everything else we've been attacked with, have we not? This will be just fine," Leo reassures me.

I look around at the men in the room. They're all nodding in agreement. "Well. Ok, I suppose," I manage. I feel very tired right now and I'm barely holding on and hoping it isn't obvious. But of course, it is.

"Right now, I think someone needs to take you home," the President says gently, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "Toby, why don't you take CJ home and make sure she gets some dinner and something relaxing?"

Toby nods. "I'll meet you in your office in ten minutes," he tells me, glancing at the President for permission to leave.

"Ok," I whisper.

He leaves and the President leans in to say something softly to me. "CJ, if you need anything, you just have to ask."

I nod in response, not sure I can say anything to that and he walks back to the Oval. I look at Leo, and say, "I don't know what I'm supposed to talk about tomorrow."

"Don't worry about that. Henry or Simon can take the morning briefing and we'll figure it all out after that. You just go home now and get some rest, you deserve it," Leo orders.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your office," Josh says quietly. He and Sam exchange a look and Sam squeezes my arm before stepping out of my way. Josh and I walk silently down the hall.

When we reach my office, Henry is waiting. "CJ, do you want the recap for the day?" he asks.

"Henry, she really just needs to get out of here," Josh said. "Don't worry about the recap for right now, you or Simon can handle things in the morning, and you guys can get everything settled then, ok?"

"Yeah. Is everything ok?" he asks me.

"Everything will be fine," I say, attempting a smile.

"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow, then." Henry shrugs and walks away as I follow Josh into my office.

"You going to talk to Sam?" I ask him.

"I think so. Is that all right?" he asks.

I nod. "If you think it would help, you can talk to Donna, too."

"We'll see," he says noncommittally.

I nod again as Toby walks down the hall. "Are you ready?" he asks.

I look at Josh for a moment then nod. "Ok."

"Hey," Josh stops me before I leave and quickly hugs me tight. "I'll take care of the rest of things, you just let Toby take care of you, ok?"

"Ok," I whisper.

"All right. I'll call you later, ok, sweet-tart?" I nod as I pull away and follow Toby down the hall towards the lobby.

"You don't have to stay," I tell Toby, dully.

"Yes, but I'm not leaving you alone," Toby responds, loosening his tie.

"Oh." I wander back towards my bedroom as Toby starts looking in my refrigerator. I hear him moving what little food there is around as I get changed into my oldest shorts and the softest t-shirt I own. I look around the room as though it's not even mine. I haven't been in my apartment in almost a week. We've all been practically living at the White House, sleeping on couches, or the cots in the Sagittarius room. I don't think I've spent a night here since the press conference.

"CJ?" Toby calls from the front room. He knows I don't like people in the bedroom, so he just stands at the top of the hallway and yells.

"Yeah?" I answer, standing up and leaving my room.

"You have no food. I just threw away everything that's spoiled," he explains.

I nod. "I meant to do that when I got clothes the other day, but I was in a rush."

"Well, it means there's nothing here for me to make for you. I was going to cook you an omelet or something," he tells me.

I smile tightly. Toby is a better cook than I am. He used to cook for me when I was in trouble when he lived in San Francisco, and then when he convinced me to come to New York to finish writing my thesis. "It's ok. I'm not all that hungry anyway." I follow him back to the kitchen.

"You have to eat dinner. You didn't eat lunch." I give him a sharp look. "I talked to Ainsley before we left."

"Oh." I shrug.

"So, you have a choice here. We can call for pizza or Chinese, or we can go get something," he says, sitting down across from me at the kitchen table. All I've eaten in the past three days is pizza and Chinese.

"Go get something."

"Ok, what would you like?" I shrug. "Do you want Mexican?" Mexican is my favorite, but Toby isn't too fond of it. He must be concerned if he's willing to take me to eat Mexican.

"There's that Chipotle place not too far from here," I tell him.

"I haven't been there yet," he replies, standing up.

"They have burritos and tacos. Food you'll probably eat." I find a pair of sandals under the coffee table and slip them on.

"You going to change?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I want carryout." Now that I'm home, I don't want to leave.

"No problem." He holds the door open for me and we walk down to his car.

"Toby?" I say softly after I'm holding a warm bag of burritos and chips.

"Yes?" he asks.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just..." I trail off, unsure of how to apologize for not telling one of my best friends the biggest secret of my life.

"Claudia Jean," he says, twisting to look at me. I look at him, startled. He's never called my by my full name before, even though he's known what it is for at least seven years. "What made you think I didn't already know?"

I blink. "Grace told you?" She's the only one who could have, other than Josh and I know Josh didn't tell anyone.

"No. She said some things about you once or twice, but nothing explicit. Andrea and I figured it out on our own. You were just too skittish for there to be nothing there," he replied as the light turned green.

We drive in silence as I contemplate Toby's words. "You always knew?" I whisper.

"Well, I didn't _know_. I knew something had happened to you, I assumed it was some sort of abuse," he explains as he pulls up in front of my apartment building.

We're occupied for a moment as we walk upstairs and get settled in at my kitchen table. "Do you want to know?" I ask after a long moment. Toby looks up from his steak burrito. "I mean, do you want the whole story?"

"Only if you want to tell it," he says softly. I think for a moment, then nod. "Ok. Then I'm willing to listen to whatever you want to tell me."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Slowly I tell him about my childhood until I finally am subsumed by sobs. He holds me until I'm quiet, and I realize I've never cried over it. I've never cried about who I am, and what made me this way. But somehow, tonight, it just strikes me as terribly sad. But Toby does everything exactly right. He is just what I need right now. Someone to hold me, then scoop me up and carry me to my bed. He lays me down amid the messy blankets, tucks me in gently and kisses my forehead before my eyes drift shut. As I fall asleep I realize just how strong Toby Ziegler is, and the thought comforts me enough to sleep awhile.

I stumble towards the kitchen and stop short when I find that Josh is sitting at my kitchen table. "Hey there, sleepy," he says, smiling a little at me.

"What are you doing here?" I mumble, sitting down at the table. My head hurts enough that I try to figure out if I had been drinking last night. No, just crying, I decide.

Josh smiles and gets up to put something in the microwave. "You were sleeping when I called last night, and Toby told me that you didn't have any food or anything, so I thought I'd bring you coffee and breakfast." The microwave beeped and Josh set a steaming cup of coffee and a cobblestone muffin down in front of me. "Did you sleep well?"

"No," I admit, tearing off a piece of the muffin. I remember waking up at least ten times, now that I'm awake enough to remember the previous night.

"I'm sorry," he says sympathetically.

"It's all right. I probably got more sleep than I have in a week." The muffin tastes really good and the coffee helps my headache some.

"I talked to Sam and told him some of the details, but not all of them. I also talked to Donna and Carol. I know you didn't tell me to talk to Carol, but Sam and Donna both thought she needed to know. Oh, and I know the President talked to the First Lady, too," he tells me.

"That's ok. I don't mind if some people know now, I guess." I was starting to feel a little better about the whole situation.

"Well, no one is going to say anything to someone else," he says, getting up to throw his coffee cup away and the wrappers from his breakfast.

"Ok." I take the final bite of muffin and ask, "I don't testify again today, do I?"

"Nope. They're taking Toby today. We knew that before you left last night," Josh replies.

"Oh. When do I go again?" I ask.

"When they subpoena you again. If they do," he tells me.

"If?" I look up at him, confused. I'd been told to expect to face the grand jury several times.

"It's possible that they won't want to see you again. It's not likely, but it is possible, especially since they didn't hold you over to today," he explains.

"Oh." I glance at the clock and sigh. "I'm going to go get dressed."

"Sure. Take your time, you don't have the briefing, remember?" I nod at him as he settles back into his chair to read the memo he had with him.

"Hey, CJ, wait up," I turn to see Sam trying to catch up with me in the hallway.

"Hey, Sam," I say, letting him catch up to me, trying not to cringe. I really don't feel like talking to people today, but it's very unavoidable when your whole job is to talk to people. But it's hard, when you're wondering what they think about you now that they know your life was nothing like theirs. Nothing like they probably assumed your life was like.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm ok," I reply, hoping he won't want to talk about it.

"Good. We should talk sometime, but it can wait, ok?" I nod, relieved, and he continues. "Ok, well, I wanted to ask you if you had plans for tonight."

"Um, no, not other than my usual work until some God-awful hour and fall asleep on the couch plan," I say, frowning. "Why?"

"Well, it's Ainsley's birthday, and Leo's already told Josh he wants us all to get out of here tonight. I thought maybe we could all go out to dinner and then back to my place to hang out. They've opened the roof pool and the hot tub, we can just go play up there," he says.

I think for a moment. Much as I still just want to hide from people today, I know I really can't. Not these people, anyway. "Sure, Sam, that sounds like fun. Does Ainsley know, or is this a surprise?"

"No, she knows. It was partly her idea. I was going to take her out to celebrate anyway, but we couldn't think of a bar where we'd both feel welcome." Sam trails off as his eyes get big. "Oh, shit, CJ, I'm sorry. We totally forgot about your birthday, didn't we?"

I smile at him a little as I shrug. "It's ok, Sam."

"No, no, I'm really sorry. Are you upset?" he asks.

"Honestly, I'm not. Sam," I say, reaching out to touch his arm, "I forgot it was my birthday. I completely lost track of time, and didn't even remember until Toby brought me a cinnamon roll about a week later and said happy birthday. We'd just been too busy to worry about it. I mean, it was the day of the funeral and the press conference, for crying out loud. Turning 35 didn't even make a dent in my radar," I finished with a strained smile.

"Still. We should have remembered. It's on my calendar at home, but..."

"But you haven't been home," I finish for him. "It's fine, Sam, honest."

"If you say so. We'll just have to make a big fuss over your Christmas," he says with a grin.

I smile back. "Ok, I'll let you do that."

"All right. I'll see you later, then?" he asks.

"What time?" I ask.

"We're meeting at my place around 7, then going from there. Bring your swimsuit!" he calls over his shoulder as he's dragged away by a shout from Ginger.

I take a deep breath as I knock on Sam's door. It's almost 7:30 and I'm extremely late, but I had a hard time convincing myself I really wanted to come. Only the knowledge that someone would certainly call me and want to know why I'm not there made me come. I'm just too scared to talk about yesterday. I managed to make it through the whole day without having to face everyone all at once. I also managed to be so busy that I didn't stop until Carol reminded me that I was meant to leave at 6.

"There you are, we were just about to call you," Sam says, opening the door.

I glance around the living room where Toby, Josh, Donna and her boyfriend Ryan, and Ainsley are sitting and talking. "Sorry. I had trouble finding my swimsuit," I lie smoothly.

"It's all right. Hey, guys, everyone ready to go?" Sam said to the room at large.

"Where are we going?" I ask as people start getting up and tossing soda cans towards the recycling bin.

"This new Italian place Toby heard about," Josh says, coming over to stand by me.

"Andrea said they had a very good vegetarian lasagna, and it's very casual," Toby comments.

"That's good," I say, glancing down at my sundress. I hadn't felt like dressing up. Everyone was eventually ready and we split up into two cars without much discussion.

The restaurant was quite busy for a Tuesday night. "So, Toby, how many other people did Andrea tell about this place?" Sam jokes as he pulls into a parking space.

"Hey, if it's crowded, that probably means the food's pretty good," Ainsley says from the front seat.

"Man, Toby, you know how to pick them," Josh comments as we walk towards his car.

"It's not like we're in any hurry tonight, Josh," Donna says.

"This is true," Sam replies, holding the door open for Ainsley and me.

"Good evening, folks, welcome to Mario's. How many?" the hostess asks Sam.

"Seven. No smoking, please," he requests.

"Ok, that's going to be about half an hour, is that ok?" she asks. We shrug at Sam's questioning look and he nods. "You can wait up in the bar, if you like."

"Thanks," Sam says, and leads us towards the bar where we find one of the tall tables in a corner to squeeze around.

"What does everyone want, I'll go get it," Josh says. After a flurry of drink orders, Josh says, "Ok, let's see. Sam and Ryan want Rolling Rock or Sam Adams, Toby and Donna want Heinekens, do you want something else if they don't have that?"

"They'll have it," Toby says.

"Ok, then, Ainsley, you want a...pink squirrel?" he asks.

"Yes, please," she says, smiling at him.

"Um, ok," he says, managing not to laugh.

"Claudia Jean?" he asks, and I realize that I never gave an order.

Thinking quickly, I say, "Just surprise me."

"You got it," he says, and heads towards the bar.

"What exactly is a pink squirrel?" Ryan asks. It's pretty obvious he's also trying hard not to laugh, and Donna shoots him a Look.

"I'm not sure, I just know it tastes good," Ainsley replies.

"Crème de Noyaux and white crème de cacao," I reply. Everyone looks at me. "What? One of my friends from college was a bartender for a couple of years."

"So that's how you know how to make all those drinks!" Sam exclaims.

"Yeah," I reply.

"Hmmm..." Donna says. I can tell she's going to try and stump me. "What's in a Hurricane Jane?" I roll my eyes at the ceiling and hope I get all the ingredients. "Rum, gin, vodka, tequila, blue Curacao, cherry rum, sweet and sour, orange juice, and ice."

"Damn, that's pretty good," Ryan comments. "How about a Three Wise Men?"

"That's easy. Jimmy, Johnny and Jack," I reply.

"Who?" Sam asks and Toby laughs.

"Jim Beam, Johnny Walker, and Jack Daniels," he replies.

"Depends on where you are, though," I tell them. "Sometimes it's Jimmy, Jack and Jose."

"Ick." Sam says.

Toby looks at me speculatively. He knew about Jack being a bartender, and knows that I know a lot of mixed drinks, but I don't recall us ever playing stump CJ on the drinks. "Tom Collins."

"Toby, come on," I say shaking my head. I know why he chose it, though. It's Andrea's favorite drink, and he knows she thinks I make the best Tom Collins. "Gin, lemon juice, powdered sugar, club soda and ice."

"Still won't tell me the secret?" he asks. I smile. Andrea always swore there was a secret to the way I made them, but I would never tell them.

"Ok, ok," I relent. It's been 10 years, anyway, and it would probably distract people from wanting to bring up yesterday. "I always threw a dash of vodka in it. You make a vodka Collins the same way, just with vodka instead of gin. If there was Absolut Citron, I used a splash of that."

"And we always had Citron," Toby nods.

"Always. Need it for the lemonade," I reply.

"Um, what are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"It's an old joke. When we used to get together back then, I always played bartender for the same reason I do now- Jack taught me how. Andrea loves Tom Collins, and she could never get one in a bar that tasted the way I made them. It was a joke that I wouldn't give up the secret to the perfect Tom Collins," I explain.

"Right. And we always had the Citron because CJ's favorite drink was this lemonade thing," Toby adds.

"Citrus Bay Lemonade, and it's quite good, I just can't find anywhere out here that serves it." I say.

"We used it with something else, though, I thought," Toby frowned.

"Grace's drink," I say shortly.

"Right." Toby nods, knowing not to say anything further. They got me talking about Jack, but I don't do as well with Grace.

"I see. So how did you get on the grasshoppers?" Sam asks, teasingly.

"I like a wide variety of drinks, Samuel," I say, trying to sound indignant. "It just so happened that night I was in the mood for crème de menthe. You've never heard me order it again, have you now?"

"I haven't," Donna said, affirmatively. Sam grinned at me.

"Hey, there's the man," Ryan said, as Josh came back to the table.

"Ok, here we go. Sam Adams for Ryan, Sam Adams for Sam, they didn't have Rolling Rock," Josh says, setting bottles down in front of Sam and Ryan. "Heineken, Heineken," he says, setting glasses down in front of Toby and Donna.

"Wow, they had it on tap?" Donna asks.

"Yep. Ok, now here's the thing, Ainsley. They knew _how_ to make a pink squirrel, but they didn't have the stuff to do it. So, they made you a pink lady instead. If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," he says, placing a cocktail glass down in front of Ainsley.

"Well, I'll try anything once," she comments. Sam shuddered visibly, but I know it's because he doesn't like gin.

"And CJ, here is your surprise." Josh sets a glass down in front of me, and I study it for a moment.

"Don't tell her what it is, make her guess," Ainsley suggests.

"Oh, that was the plan," Josh nods. It's kind of red, and I guess that it has cranberry juice in it, since I don't smell tomatoes.

"Am I allowed to taste it before I guess," I ask wryly.

"Sure." Josh takes a pull off of his own Sam Adams.

I taste it slowly, hoping it's not Everclear or something like that. I don't think Josh would be that mean, and I also am not sure that Everclear is legal in the District. "Oh," I say. "Tequila Canyon."

"Yup," Josh says, grinning. I smile back. Josh, Sam, Donna and I had one very memorable evening during the campaign with a bottle of tequila. I think I made us every tequila drink I could remember. Josh was pretty gone after about three drinks, even though I made his half strength, but the other two hung in there with me pretty well.

"Are we going to be picking her up off the floor," I hear Ryan say softly to Donna.

"CJ? No. Josh, perhaps," she whispers back, glancing at me. I bite my lip to hide a smile. I'm used to people figuring I can't hold my liquor. Toby told me once that because I'm so thin, people figure I get drunk quickly. Actually, I've outlasted Toby before. At a party once, I heard Leo comment that I could have probably matched him drink for drink at his most alcoholic point. Toby is the only person here who has ever seen me so drunk that I needed someone to take care of me. It doesn't happen often.

We sat and talked, finishing our drinks, when it occurred to us that we'd been waiting for at least 45 minutes. "I'll go and see where we are on the list," I volunteer. I start to make my way across the crowded floor. Being tall and thin helps in a crowd sometimes, but I still have trouble getting through the mass of people congregated around the bar. Without warning, someone bangs into me and the next thing I know the front of my dress is all wet.

"Oops, I'm sorry. Are you all right?" I look up and see a tall man standing in front of me. He probably has three or four inches on me, since I have to look up at him, which is somewhat unusual.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, shaking my head.

"Here," he says, handing me a napkin. I blot at the front of my dress, but it doesn't help much. It smells like white wine, and I'm just glad it's clear so it won't stain too badly. I'm also glad the dress is yellow and not white. "Oh, man, I am so sorry. You send me your cleaning bill, ok?"

"Ok," I say, distractedly. This dress is wash and wear, so I'm not worried about cleaning it.

"It would probably help if I introduced myself, wouldn't it?" he says, smiling a little. "My name is Adam Cardington."

"CJ Cregg," I reply, shaking his proffered hand. He's not at all bad looking, with green eyes and close cut dark hair.

"Well, CJ Cregg, here's my card. You call me when you get that dress back, you hear?"

"Sure," I say, nodding.

"Great," he says, smiling as he hands me his card. "Are you here with someone?"

"Just some friends. We've been waiting quite awhile for our table, so I was going to see how much longer it would be," I explain.

"Yes, it's quite busy in here, isn't it?" he comments.

I nod and am about to say something when I feel someone's hand on my elbow. Jumping, I turn to see Donna standing behind me. "CJ, they just called our name," she says.

"Oh, ok," I say. "Well, thank you for offering to pay for the cleaning," I say to Adam.

"Not a problem. I'll be talking to you then?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'll be in touch," I say, turning to follow Donna. "Have a nice night."

"You too," he says as Donna leads me away.

"What happened?" she asks me.

"He bumped into me and spilled his drink down the front of my dress," I explain.

"He's cute." Her eyes are dancing as we walk into the dining room.

"He is that," I say as we approach the table.

"Hello, may I please speak to Adam Cardington," I say to a receptionist two days later. Donna and I figured that two days was a reasonable amount of time to have waited to take something to the cleaners. Donna had said that it wasn't deception to call the guy and tell him the cleaning was a couple of dollars, but that he could repay me by meeting me for coffee instead. I'm not sure I agree, but I don't know how to explain that the dress was machine washable, but I wanted to see him again.

"One moment please." I wait through lousy hold music and jump when he answers.

"Cardington."

"Hi, I'm CJ Cregg, we met at Mario's on Tuesday?" I say, uncertain that he would remember.

"Oh, right, I was clumsy and spilled my drink. Was the dress a pain to get cleaned?" he asks.

"No, not at all. It's not even going to be all that expensive to clean." This is completely true. If I have it figured correctly, it'll probably cost less than 50 cents to throw it in a load of laundry.

"Good, I'm glad," he says.

"Yeah. So, I was thinking, that since it's not going to be much at all, maybe you could meet me for coffee instead of paying the cleaning bill," I ask hopefully.

"Yeah, I could do that," he says. "When would be good for you?"

I think quickly. Leo told us the other day that he wants us to quit wasting our rent money and go home to sleep, at least most of the time. I think I could get out of here at a decent hour tomorrow, but probably not the next day. "Is tomorrow ok for you?" I ask.

"Sure, if we do it later in the evening. I have a meeting until 8," he explains.

"That's fine, I usually don't leave work until then anyway," I say.

"So, do you do Starbucks, or would you prefer somewhere else?" he asks.

"Um, do you know where the Xando Cosi's on Pennsylvania Avenue is?" I ask.

"Don't think I've heard of that one, but I can probably find it," he says.

"Ok. I can give you directions, probably, if you need them." Xando Cosi is my new favorite coffee place in DC, and it's fairly close to the White House. We're all starting to like it better than Starbucks, if for no other reason than you can get sandwiches there as well. We discovered that they'll deliver until 5 and the sandwiches keep well, so when we get tired of pizza and Chinese, we order from there.

"Thanks, but I'll find it all right. I know where Pennsylvania is," he replies.

"Great. So, tomorrow, at 8:30?" I ask.

"Sounds like a plan to me. I'll see you there," he says.

"Good," I say.

"Looking forward to it," he says. "But I have a meeting to get to, right now."

"Oh, sure. I do too, actually," I say, glancing at my watch.

"Then I will see you tomorrow," he says.

"See you tomorrow," I reply, and wait for him to hang up before replacing my phone.

Donna is walking past my office as I stop to talk to Carol before heading to my meeting. "So?" she asks. Carol looks interested too.

"So, I'm meeting him for coffee at Xando Cosi's tomorrow night," I tell them.

"Good choice," Carol says, nodding approvingly.

"Definitely." Donna agrees.

"Glad you two approve. I need to get to this meeting," I say, over my shoulder as I start walking.

"Good luck!" they call after me. I wave back at them, so they know I heard.

"Good luck on what?" Josh asks me as he falls into step with me as I race down the hall.

"I'm meeting this guy I met the other night at Xando Cosi's tomorrow night," I reply.

"The guy who spilled his wine all over you?" he asks, holding the door of the Roosevelt room open for me.

"That's the one." I nod.

"Well, good luck," he says quietly as we take our places at the table for a meeting about the tobacco case.

"So I hear you had a date last night," Toby says as I walk into his office two days later.

"Yeah," I admit, blushing a little.

"Did you have fun?" he asks. I look at him closely. Toby and I get flirtatious every once in awhile, but we both know it won't ever go anywhere. It would be too weird, what with my being friends with Andrea and the fact that he's still in love with her and I know it. Sometimes, though, I wonder about us.

"Yeah, I had fun, but I don't really see it becoming a relationship," I tell him.

"But you want to see him again," Toby says, knowingly.

"He's taking me out to dinner next weekend. I told him I have too much work to go tonight," I explain.

"Good." Toby nods.

"You think?" I ask.

"Of course," he says.

"Well, ok, then," I say. "What do I say about the Tobacco case?"

"Say what you've been saying. We're committed to this fight, etc, etc, yadda, yadda." Toby shrugs.

"Gotcha," I say, writing as I leave his office again.

"CJ," Sam says, grabbing my arm to stop me.

"Hey, Sparky," I say, looking at him.

"Your date went well?" he asks.

"Yep. He's taking me out again." I smile a little.

"Congratulations. Listen, I need to ask you something," he says.

"Sure," I reply.

"Would it be a big problem if I asked Ainsley out?" he asks quickly.

I think for a moment, but shrug. "I don't really see one. It's not like you work in the same department, or are in a boss-subordinate position."

"It's just that she's a Republican," Sam says.

"No kidding?" I say, sarcastically. "Seriously, Sam, I don't think it's a problem. If you want, I'll ask Leo, though."

"Mmm, no, I'd better do it myself," he says.

"Ok. Good luck," I tell him as I walk back towards my office to finish getting ready for my briefing.

* * *

Adia I thought we could make it   
but I know I can't change the way you feel   
I leave you with your misery   
a friend who won't betray   
I pull you from your tower   
I take away your pain  
and show you all the beauty you possess  
if you'd only let yourself believe   
that we are born innocent

"Adia", Sarah McLachlan

* * *

August 19, 2001

Sam and Ainsley walked into the waiting room to find Leo and Toby talking to the police. "What's up?" Sam asked.

"You're Mr. Seaborn?" one of the cops asked.

"Yes, that's me," he replied.

"When was the last time you saw Ms. Cregg?" he asked.

"Earlier today," Sam answered. "Probably around noon or so, I guess."

"Did she seem depressed or upset about anything?" the other cop asked.

Sam shrugged. "She was doing a press briefing, she better not have seemed depressed."

"Sam," Leo said, gently.

"Leo, the only time I saw CJ all day was on the television," Sam sighed.

"I know," Leo nodded.

"She's been like that for a week," Sam said.

"I know," Leo said.

"So, you haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary?" the cop asked.

"Define ordinary," Toby muttered.

"Ok, I have just one more question. Do you know who her boyfriend is?" the cop asked, apparently deciding he wasn't going to get any good information right now.

"Never met the guy," Sam sighed.

"Do you know his last name?" the other cop asked.

Sam thought for a long moment. "I don't remember. His first name is Adam, though."

"Yes, Mr. Ziegler and Mr. Lyman remembered that. Well, if you think of it..."

"We'll call," Leo interrupted. The cops nodded and left.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

"The cops need to find her boyfriend. They want his alibi," Toby said without looking up from his hands.

"Where's Josh?" Sam asked, looking around.

"In another room with a laptop. He's looking though the green box- it's a bunch of disks and stuff," Leo explained.

"Oh." Sam and Ainsley sat down across from Toby. "How's she doing?"

Leo shrugged. "Well, she's still unconscious, and they aren't exactly sure when she's going to wake up."

"But she's going to wake up, right?" Ainsley asked.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah," Leo nodded.

"So, the cops don't know what happened, I take it," Sam said. Leo shook his head.

Toby looked up and said, "It finally got her, is what happened."

"What got her?" Leo asked.

"CJ has been spoiling for this for years, Leo. It was bound to get her eventually." Toby sighed. "I expected it before now."

"She's been suicidal before?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I wouldn't call it suicidal. Self destructive, perhaps." Toby looked at them. "CJ has been lost for years. She was beginning to get it together, since she left California, but still." He paused then continued softly, "You should have seen her at 27. This is not the first time she's scared me."

"What did she do then?" Sam asked.

Toby sighed and closed his eyes. "Her roommates died in a car accident. She had to identify the bodies. Andrea and I had to convince her to come to New York to finish writing her thesis, because she had a tendency to forget to eat unless someone reminded her. She lived with us for two months, and I don't think she slept the night through the whole time."

"I don't think she sleeps much now," Leo said.

"Or eats. She looked really thin when I saw her the other day," Ainsley said.

"I know," Toby sighed. They all sat quietly for a moment.

"Did anyone call her dad?" Sam asked, finally.

"No one has the number," Leo sighed.

"Carol doesn't?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Nope. It's not in her rolodex, no one can find it in any of her files," Leo explained.

"Shouldn't it be on her personnel file?" Ainsley asked.

"It's not though," Leo said.

"I've been CJ's emergency contact at every job she's had since she was 28," Toby said.

"Why isn't it her dad?" Ainsley asked.

"Because she doesn't think she can trust him," Sam said softly. Everyone looked at him. "CJ and I had this conversation, sometime around Easter, when I was still wasn't really talking to my father. Some of the things she said when I was telling her how betrayed I felt made me think something had happened to her at some point, but it's CJ. I don't ask her questions like that, you never get an answer."

"Right," Toby said, nodding.

"Well, after the grand jury, we had another talk, and I told her that now I knew she had known what I was talking about earlier. And then," Sam paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "I asked her how she got over her dad just leaving her and her brothers. She said she never did. She still feels like she can't count on him being there if she ever needed him," he finished.

"I could understand that," Leo said softly.

A woman knocked on the door and walked into the room. "You're all here with CJ Cregg?" she asked.

"Yes," Leo said, as they all started to stand up.

"Oh, keep your seats. I'm sorry. I'm not a nurse," she said. "So far as I know nothing has changed. I'm the shrink. My name's Kris Lasters."

"Nice to meet you," Leo said politely.

"I just have a couple of questions. I know you talked to Dr. Janus, but since she'll be staying, they transferred her care to me," she glanced around. "I'm told that you guys want to keep this quiet, and I guarantee you, I won't talk to the press or anything."

"We appreciate it," Leo said.

"I'm just wondering, how long has she been like this?" she asked.

"We're not sure," Sam admitted.

"I am," Josh said, entering the room with Donna. Donna looked like she'd been crying and Josh was pale. He held up a sheaf of papers and looked at Leo. "You might want to look at this. It's a letter she wrote to me. It's not pretty."

Leo took the papers and started to glance at them. He swallowed hard and turned to Toby. "Do you have the card the cops gave us?"

"Yeah," Toby said, digging it out of his pocket.

"Go call them. Tell them CJ's boyfriend's name is Adam Cardington, and they should talk to us before they go after him," Leo said in a soft deadly voice.

"Yeah," Toby said softly, leaving the room.


	4. Counterattack

3. Counterattack

* * *

Sometimes I don't know what she's saying.  
Sometimes I do,   
Sometimes I don't, know what she's saying.   
But I know, I know, I know what she wants to believe.

"Emaline," Ben Folds Five

* * *

August 25, 2001

The drugs make her babble. She is so out of it that I don't think she even knows I'm holding her hand right now. I can't really make out what she's saying, and it's unnerving me. She keeps chanting the same thing over and over, in this whispery soft voice, pauses, then repeats it. It feels like a prayer, and despite the fact I've caught her whispering prayers before, I don't recognize this one. I feel a gentle hand on my back and I turn to see Leo and Toby.

"I think she's praying," I say softly, looking back down at CJ's glassy, half-lidded eyes. "I don't know if she's conscious of it, or even if she's really saying a prayer. I don't recognize it."

"Well, Josh, I wouldn't necessarily expect you to know a Catholic prayer," Toby says wryly.

"No, well, I mean," I hesitate. "I've heard her pray before. She whispers it under her breath and through clenched teeth when she thinks no one can hear, but I've heard her. It's not what she's saying now."

Leo frowns and listens a moment. CJ whispers, stops, whispers again as Leo nods. "It's the rosary, Josh. She's sayin' Hail Marys"

"Ok, I know I'm no expert, but I do know that's not what she says. And why does it start different?" I ask.

"When you say it as a group, one person says the first part and everyone joins in on the rest," Leo shrugs. "What do you mean it's not right?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I've never heard her say Hail Mary. I know that one because of Joanie," I whisper. Leo nods, understanding.

Toby looks mystified, but doesn't ask. He listens a moment and nods too. "Josh is right, that's a different prayer. She says the other Mary prayer."

I nod in agreement. Now Leo is puzzled and I know he needs to know what we're talking about or it'll drive him crazy. He's racking his brain for all the "Mary prayers" he knows, but nothing seems to come up for him. CJ just keeps praying. I hold her hand and don't notice the SS guys who come in and leave.

"Abbey, help me out here," Leo says quietly. "These two are saying something about "the other Mary prayer". Not Hail Mary, another one."

"Remember O most gracious Virgin Mary that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession was left unaided. Inspired by your confidence, I fly unto you O Virgin of Virgins, my Mother. To you I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful, O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my humble petition, but in your mercy, hear and answer me," Abbey recites. Toby and I both nod. "It's called the Memorare."

"That's CJ's prayer. When she's really scared." I explain.

"I could see why CJ would like that prayer," Abbey says. Leo nods, and Abbey leans around me and listens to CJ. Brushing CJ's limp hair away from her face, she says, "Glory be to the Father, to the Son and the Holy Spirit."

"As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be world without end, amen," CJ whispers in the same voice she'd been using. She then starts whispering something I vaguely recognize as being part of the Lord's Prayer.

"Ok, good." Abbey says. We look at her quizzically, so she continues. "I was wondering if she'd respond to outside stimuli."

"She hasn't, not really," Toby tells her.

"I know. It's the drugs," Abbey sighs.

"She hates them," I say. I'm sure I said it earlier, but I want to say it again. She'll hate that she was drugged insensible.

"I know," Abbey says, squeezing my shoulder. "But she was so combative, that there's really not much of a choice. It won't be much longer, they'll switch to something that's not as strong, probably tomorrow, if she's calmer."

I bite my lip. CJ had been almost violent the first time she woke up, but I had thought it was fairly obvious that she just couldn't figure out what was happening, or where exactly she was. The doctors said it wasn't the head injury. She'd been unconscious for hours, but the last CT scan hadn't shown any damage at all. There was something wrong emotionally, and I honestly don't think drugging her is going to help. I said as much, but since I don't possess a degree in psychology, my opinion was ignored. Toby hadn't been there, but I think he would have agreed with me and in my mind, if the two people who know her best don't think it's a good idea, we ought to have some weight here, but we don't. It's very frustrating.

"Josh?" CJ blinks and tries to focus on me. She can't, both because of the drugs and because they won't let her have her glasses.

Startled, I move closer, until I'm within range of her eyesight. "I'm here, CJ." Everyone else holds still, because she sounds almost lucid, and they haven't seen that in days.

"Don't let them..." she trails off. "So sleepy," she slurs.

"I know, sweet-tart. They've got you all doped up," I tell her. This has happened at least twice before, but so far as I know I've been the only one here, both times.

"Not crazy," she protests.

"No, no, you're not crazy. You were just really confused and they didn't want you to get hurt. They thought they were doing what's best for you," I explain slowly. This is the most I've gotten out of her.

"Can we go home?" she asks.

My heart almost breaks at her plaintive voice. "No, honey, I'm afraid we can't. You have to get better first." I whisper.

"Wanna go home. Wanna see the ocean. I'll be better if I see the ocean," she whispers to me. "You'll see your ocean. We'll fix it so you can." I say, trying not to cry.

"Don't wanna stay, Josh."

I nod, knowing that's what she meant by wanting to see the ocean. "I know you don't, honey. I know." I try to reassure her the best I can, but it's hard to reassure someone when you don't want what they want.

"You too," she says, tugging on my hand. I'm not sure what to say to that, but she slides back into semi-consciousness before I can respond. I squeeze her hand, and get up from the chair to stumble out of the room. Leo follows me.

"She doesn't want to stay?" he asks.

"God only knows what she means," I reply, not quite lying to him.

"Right." Leo looks at me speculatively. "Go home, get some sleep. I'll stay with her when Toby leaves."

I sigh. I really should go for a while. Hospitals seem to be as good as Yo- Yo Ma for setting me off, which makes sense. I'm doing all right, but there have been moments where I wasn't quite there. "If she wakes up like that, you have to get kind of close to her face. Before, she could hardly see an arm's length away from her. The eye doctor said he thinks it might be worse now, but he hasn't been able to test her completely. She gets scared if she can't kind of see you." I tell him.

"Ok. I'll remember," Leo assures me.

"I'll be back in a few hours, ok?" I figure he'll tell me to stay away for longer than that, but I think he knows it won't be possible. I can't not be here.

"Ok. Take your time," he says, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. I nod, then turn and walk wearily towards the exit.

* * *

It's been a while  
Since I could say that I wasn't addicted  
It's been a while   
Since I could say I loved myself as well and...

"It's Been Awhile," Staind

* * *

July 9, 2001

There are three people here today. One of them is the Press Secretary. She is doing her job, mechanically, but no one notices anything out of the ordinary, because she's become very good at working on autopilot the past while. She responds to Toby's sarcasm with wit, patiently explains to Steve that she won't answer his questions about the grand jury for the thousandth time, and is ready for whatever facts Leo needs her to spin and regurgitate. Then, there is CJ, who hovers right behind the Press Secretary and tries to back her up with her usual personality. Except, lately, CJ has a tendency to see memories instead of people.

Today, when CJ looks at Toby, she sees letters written in his familiar scrawl, each word tumbling over the next in a rush to leave his pen. Letters written on stationary from various campaigns, written on torn pieces of paper from steno pads and yellow legal pads, once written on the back of his mother's shopping list when he couldn't find any other paper in her kitchen. Leo's face brings to mind sarcastic comments and exasperation at her many mistakes when she was learning how to be the public face of the administration. The President is in New Hampshire and can't get her name right, always calling her the tall girl. She sees Sam's wounded eyes as he explains that his fiancée broke off their engagement over the phone. Josh is barely there, indistinct in visions of blood on white pavement during a night she can't remember, but can't forget.

I am behind them both. I am hiding back here, where it's safe. There's a curtain between them and me. There's a wall between last night and me. I can't remember when I last slept. I couldn't tell you what I ate last. Everything is nicely covered with the haze of adrenaline that fuels the Press Secretary and CJ, because Claudia Jean can't do it right now. She needs to stay back here, shrouded by the slightly dizzy feeling of no sleep, no food and too much caffeine. I've forgotten how to make my stomach accept coffee as sustenance. I managed to keep down the Excedrin, and that is the only fuel I've been able to give them. I need to stay here, because if the fog clears, I won't be able to stop my mind from screaming. I won't be able to keep myself from crying. I won't be able to keep my secrets, and I _have_ to keep the secret. I don't even know what the secret is, because if I think about it, I'm in that moment, I'm back in last night, and the night before that, and the week before that.

But while I'm hiding here, my mind is anything but a blank. It's moving too fast to keep up with my other personas. You can hide in speed and I've become good at it. The more you run, the farther you run, the less you have to face. And if you just keep running, maybe you can escape. The only thing Claudia Jean is quite sure of at the moment is that she ran this morning. Ran hard and far and what little she can feel of her body aches from it. Something happened when I ran this morning, and the little beep from my watch didn't register completely and I made the Press Secretary late, and I think that stressed CJ out a bit. I can't tell, because I can't really feel CJ right now. Usually, we're in synch. We're the same person, but lately, Claudia Jean can't handle being CJ. It requires certain honesty to certain people that she can't face right now, so I'm back here. I wonder if I could be addicted to this not sleeping. To this not eating. To this long distance running.

But asking that question would be asking for help, which would be tantamount to betrayal. I've been betrayed. I can't knowingly do it to someone else. I couldn't. Betraying myself is not quite the same. I joke about betraying the sisterhood, but I have committed the final betrayal. I've bought in to things I can't think clearly about. I had no choice- or rather, I had no good choice. I'm doing what I have to do to protect them, protect the people who love me. I'm becoming addicted to my miasma so I can save them. That's what is keeping Claudia Jean sane. Knowing she has to survive to be the sacrifice. It's always been about the sacrifice. What are you willing to sacrifice on this altar of democracy?

The Press Secretary can do the job. She can handle the press, memorize the facts, give an educated opinion on media matters. CJ can back up the Press Secretary, keep her from becoming an automaton, give her the ammunition to smack down the spin boys when needed. CJ can keep Claudia Jean from running too far away before it's time to go. But Claudia Jean is the only one who can be a sacrifice. I am the only one who can make it so the sacrifice is not in vain. And in order to do that, a certain amount of strategy must be employed. And right now, in order for Claudia Jean to strategize, she needs to not think too clearly about what is happening to her. She has to run, outdistance the events that make all this necessary. It's been awhile, but this murk is familiar, as familiar as my own name. I've fought this, but now, I don't think I can. Giving up might be the most prudent course of action, but not yet. I may be running, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to fight in the only way I can. I just have to make submission a weapon, as sickening as that sounds.

Use your addiction, Claudia Jean. Don't let it use you, just yet.

* * *

Fool, said I, you do not know,   
silence, like a cancer, grows   
Hear my words and I might teach you,   
take my arms then I might reach you   
But my words, like silent raindrops fell,   
and echoed in the wells of silence

"Sounds of Silence," Simon and Garfunkel

* * *

August 20, 2001

"Leo? What the hell is going on?" Abbey Bartlet exclaimed as Leo walked into the Oval Office.

"Yes, Leo, what is all this?" Bartlet said, rising from the couch.

Leo sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, but there wasn't much to tell. CJ is still unconscious, they don't know when she'll be waking up."

"Yes, but how did it happen?" Bartlet asked.

"We aren't quite sure. The only thing we do know is that she apparently intended to commit suicide." Leo was quiet a moment, looking down at the sheaf of papers in his hand.

"You should read this, Jed," he said softly.

"What does it say?" Jed asked, just as quietly.

Leo took a deep, trembling breath. "It says that a man CJ had been seeing was not who she thought he was. It says that he stalked her in order to blackmail her into giving him information that could be used against us by a radical group that is so far left they might as well be on the right. It says that when she resisted, she was punished, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It says that she told him she was gathering the information he asked for, but that she was really gathering information on the group he was connected with so that she could give it to us. It says that she was willing to give everything she had to protect her family. She wrote it to Josh and in such a way that Josh is the only one who would have known how and where to find it. And when she couldn't hold them off any longer, she was ready to commit suicide in order to get out of the situation, because she thought telling us otherwise would be to betray us."

Jed and Abbey stared at him with horrified expressions. "What happened last night?"

"No one knows. Josh said he had a conversation with her yesterday afternoon that was something of an apology for the fight they had. He said he was going to go get something to eat, but she didn't want anything. He came back and found a note on his desk, and came and got me. We went over to her apartment and found her unconscious on the floor of her kitchen. The paramedics came and took her to Georgetown Medical, as an attempted suicide. However, the doctors can't find any evidence of self inflicted injury. The note she left Josh told him to look for something and this is what he found. The police are looking for Adam Cardington, because we think he's the one who did this," Leo explained, falling into a chair.

"What are her vitals?" Abbey asked.

"Judging from what they're telling us, they're pretty good. She has a severe concussion, but there doesn't appear to be any brain swelling. It's not clear whether there will be any damage, though," Leo whispered.

"If I called, do you think they'd tell me anything?" Abbey asked.

"Abbey, your license..."Jed said softly.

"Jed, I know, but I can at least reassure people," she said, worriedly.

"I'm not sure they'd tell you much. Donna's boyfriend works at Georgetown, he's been talking to the doctors and basically feeding her information that they aren't telling Josh or Toby," Leo explained.

"I see," she said.

"So what do we do about this?" Jed asked.

"Right now? We wait for CJ to wake up or for the police to find Cardington. We can't afford to make the kinds of accusations we all want to make until we can confirm things," Leo sighed. "Toby is talking to Andrea Wyatt. He wanted to see if CJ might have talked to her about any of this, but it's unlikely."

"She and CJ are friendly?" Jed asked.

"I guess. I know they used to be good friends before the divorce, but I think things chilled a bit after that." They sat quiet for a moment, then Leo said, "I brought Sam and Ainsley back with me. Donna and Carol are with Josh at the hospital. I thought that was probably the best place for them. Come morning, Simon will do the briefings, and we're just going to say that CJ was involved in an incident if people ask."

"Ok." The President nodded.

"I'm going to go change. You should probably try to get some sleep, it's only 3," Leo said, getting up to leave.

"Right." Jed and Leo exchanged a long look. "I don't like this, Leo. Why didn't she say something?"

"Because, CJ of all people couldn't do something that she saw as a betrayal," Leo said simply.

"How did we not notice something was wrong, though?" he asked.

"Because it's CJ and she's good at hiding in plain sight." Leo sat back down. "You should see her right now, Jed. She is literally skin and bones. How did we not notice that? The shrink asked us how long CJ has been anorexic, Jed. We couldn't tell her. Toby said this was a long time coming, and I think he blames himself the most because he knew she would hide like this."

"We should have been making sure she was all right," Jed said. "What with the grand jury and all."

"And Josh said he was," Leo said. "He did his best. There wasn't anything we could have done without driving her farther away."

"You really believe that?" the President asked softly.

"I do," Abbey said, suddenly. "She's skittish, Jed. Always has been, we just didn't know why until a couple of months ago."

"And that's why we should have made it clear she could come to us with anything," Jed said, stubbornly.

"We have been, Jed." Leo sighed. "We have been since the first day she was on the campaign. I can't count the number of times I've seen Sam or Toby or Josh ask her if she was all right, and watched her tell them she was perfectly fine each time. She does it to me, too. The night of the shooting, she didn't want to do the morning shows, it was obvious she was upset, I asked her what was wrong, she said nothing was wrong, that she was just fine."

"Well, obviously she wasn't just fine," the President said. Leo had no response to that statement and closed his eyes. Abbey just shook her head and reached out to rub her husband's back lightly. They sat motionless, not knowing what else to do but wait.

Across town, at Georgetown Medical, Josh and Donna sat silently on a ledge in the parking lot outside of the Emergency Department. Eventually Josh turned to Donna and asked quietly, "Was it this bad when you were waiting for me?"

Donna closed her eyes. "Waiting for you was horrible. It was the longest 14 hours of my life. But this..." she paused a moment, to think how to word her answer. "This is wretched. This is worse."

"How?" Josh asked.

"With you, we had a time limit. We knew that in 12 to 14 hours, the worst would be over. It was a no news is good news kind of situation. The longer we went without hearing what was happening with you, the better the chance that everything was going well and you would make it. This, though...We don't know how long this will take. We don't know if she's going to wake up and be just fine, or what. We don't know when we'll know. The doctors can't do anything other than wait, either, since we don't know exactly what happened. This is wretched, Josh," she finished quietly.

"Yeah," he said.

"The guy...Adam. Do you think they've found him yet?" Donna asked after a moment.

"I think someone would have told us," Josh sighed.

"Yeah, probably. I don't see how she managed to do all this," she said.

"She managed because she's CJ and has no conception of asking for help," Josh said, putting his head down on his knees.

"Mmm." Donna reached out to rub the back of his neck. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice muffled. "It's better out here."

"I would think so." They sat quiet for another minute. "There would have been no good time for this to happen, but I think this was truly the worst time."

"She doesn't remember that night, you know," Josh said suddenly, sitting up to look at Donna. "Doesn't remember it at all."

"She doesn't?" Donna looked surprised.

Josh shook his head. "We talked about it at Christmas. The last thing she remembers is telling Danny that she wasn't sorry about misleading the press about the pilot in Iraq. The next thing that she actually remembers at all clearly, is Leo waking her up and having Sam drive her home after she fell asleep in her office almost two days later."   
"Well, she did hit her head," Donna said.

"That's not why she doesn't remember, Donna. She doesn't remember because CJ doesn't remember traumatic events. It's how she copes, she just shoves it aside and never deals with anything. Toby's right. This is who knows how much stuff catching up with her," Josh said sadly. "I can't decide if it's comforting that this would have happened sometime anyway."

"Josh? Do you think she might have..."

"PTSD?" Josh interrupted. "I don't know. She doesn't have flashbacks, I do know that, because she asked me what they were like, but I know she has nightmares sometimes. Then again, I think we all do."

"She has nightmares of things she doesn't remember?" Donna asked.

Josh shrugged. "Just because she doesn't actually remember them doesn't mean she doesn't know exactly what happened. She knows every detail of what happened that night, she just sees it through other people's eyes. Sam told me that's why he did the morning shows, she admitted to him that she couldn't remember what happened. But she doesn't remember that conversation, either- Sam told me about it a couple weeks later. She doesn't remember seeing me in the recovery room, doesn't remember that she had to fight with the doctors to be allowed to see me- Toby told me that she did. She can't remember sitting in the President's hospital room telling him about the briefings, but she knows it happened because she has notes from the conversation."

"I think that would be almost scarier than actually remembering it," Donna said.

"In some ways, it's a blessing. It meant she could take care of everyone else- Leo told me once that CJ was truly what held everything together after that night and that if she had fallen apart, the whole thing would have gone to hell," he said.

"She was amazing, Josh. She was utterly calm about absolutely everything. I mean, I've seen the footage from the first press conference, but even then, she was more together than anyone else was. And then for weeks, she was the only one of us who actually could do anything," Donna told him, the awe apparent in her voice.

"But there's a price to pay for that," Josh said, looking at her.

"I know. We just couldn't think of it at the time," Donna admitted.

"Of course you couldn't. And I bet if you asked CJ how she was doing, she would have been surprised you were asking and have told you she was fine. And no one would have asked her, because we overlook her because she's always "fine". Sometimes I wish I'd forced her to talk to me once I was feeling better, but I was too scared to listen to what she would say. But I don't know that it would have made a difference, she would have just avoided me, and I just didn't want her to do that." He sighed and rested his head on his hand. "On the day...just a week or so ago, I guess. She was so quiet and so distant that I wondered if she was actually remembering what happened for the first time, or if she just felt awkward because she doesn't remember what happened. I never considered that she was distant because she was trying to deal with all of this."

"You couldn't have known, Josh. You're not a mind reader," Donna soothed.

"I could have noticed, though," he said. "I could have noticed," he repeated almost to himself. There was nothing Donna could say to that. They sat silent until Josh's beeper went off and he glanced down at the message. "Donna, she woke up," he said, standing up hurriedly.

"She's awake?" Donna asked as he helped her to her feet. He nodded. "Oh, thank God," Donna whispered. Josh nodded, hoping that God was listening to his own silent prayer, knowing that the struggle had only just begun.


	5. Retreat and Regroup

Chapter 4: Retreat and Regroup

* * *

Reach down your hand in your pocket   
pull out some hope for me   
It's been a long day, always ain't that right   
and no Lord your hand won't stop it  
just keep you trembling   
It's been a long day, always ain't that right   
-"Long Day," matchbox twenty

* * *

August 27, 2001

I stand in the doorway and watch Leo talk to her softly. He's holding her uncasted hand and gently stroking her fingers. I don't find it terribly unexpected, but I know Sam, at least, was a bit startled at Leo's reaction to all this. I know Leo kind of considers himself as a sort of surrogate father to me, especially since my father's death, but I'm not sure too many other people have recognized that Leo feels fairly paternal towards CJ, too. The President is the more obvious father figure, and truthfully, CJ is not much older than Elizabeth. But CJ won Leo over completely during a campaign stop in Minnesota, despite the fact that she was the subject of a rather heated lecture from Abbey Bartlet (to be fair, Abbey had some harsh words for the rest of us "boys" as well). Leo had already been impressed by CJ, but Minnesota clinched his complete admiration for her.

It was the dead of winter, and we were in International Falls, Minnesota. There was close to three feet of snow on the ground and it was probably close to -60 with the wind chill. I don't think I'll forget CJ's completely dazed look as she got off the bus and faced what she said later was the most snow and the coldest temperatures she'd ever seen in her life. Most of us complained rather loudly about the cold, as I remember, but she didn't say a word about it, and honestly, none of us realized that she probably wasn't prepared for such weather. She probably didn't even own a really heavy sweater, or if she did, she certainly didn't have it with her. I saw her about 20 minutes after we arrived in our war room, wearing just about every article of clothing she had in her suitcase. She was running through something with Leo and her teeth were chattering from the cold. He didn't seem to notice, and I already knew enough not to comment. Abbey happened to come in at that point and told me to be sure to dress warmly because it was dangerously cold out before walking over to presumably deliver the same message to Leo and CJ. When she saw CJ, however, she got rather peeved and asked CJ if she had any warmer clothing, which CJ didn't. Abbey then told Leo he was letting CJ go to the nearest shopping center with her and get something warmer to wear before the poor girl died of hypothermia. Leo didn't protest and sent CJ with Abbey. I also happened to witness Abbey's later lecture to Leo about CJ being the girl in the boy's club and the fact that she would probably rather die than speak up when she needed something out of fear of being degraded or ridiculed. Leo actually agreed with Abbey, and later pulled CJ aside and told her, "CJ, when you need something, you tell me. You don't need to prove to us that you're as tough as the boys. We already know you're tougher than we'll ever be."

Amazingly enough, Leo reached her tonight. They took her off the drugs today, and she's more lucid, but not terribly communicative. Kris, the therapist, tried to talk to her, and told us that she wouldn't say a word to her. When Toby sat in on a later session at Kris's request, she still wasn't very responsive. She refused to talk to Sam and wouldn't even see Donna. Leo stood behind my chair as I tried to cajole her into eating some pudding. As I was beginning to get frustrated, Leo finally spoke up. He told her winter was almost over and that spring would be here soon. I was puzzled, since winter's been over for months, but it made CJ look _at_ him, instead of through him, and it made her cry. She cried big gasping sobs that made me feel better despite the pain they caused. I had sense enough to retreat to the doorway and let Leo handle her. I think we may be almost home. If he can get through to her, she might be able to accept the help we all so desperately want to give her. One can only hope.

* * *

The next night he's over and over and under   
And after he's finished she lies there and wonders   
Just why does she need him, and why does she stay here,   
And then in the darkness, she'll quietly say,   
"Dear, You've never really known.   
That when the white flag is flown,   
No one, no one, no one has won the war."

-"The Flag", Barenaked Ladies

* * *

July 15, 2001

"What did you do to your hair?!?" Josh exclaims as I walk into Leo's office.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, resisting the impulse to smooth it down.

"It's like...short. And different," he says, standing up to look at me.

"Yes, Josh, I have short hair. You've known me for what, 4 years now?" I say, sitting down.

"No, CJ, it wasn't that short yesterday," Sam comments from his seat on the couch.

Damnit, I swear, I work with the only men in the world who would notice that I changed my hairstyle last night. "Sam. My hair is short. It may not have been as short yesterday, but my hair is always short." Half true. Last night, I decided what with all that's happening, what the hell do I care about my hair. It was getting too long, so I just took a pair of scissors to it. Besides, I don't want to look pretty right now. Right now, I'm just focusing on survival, in more ways than one. Not that I can explain this to Sam and Josh, or anyone else for that matter.

"CJ, you changed your hair. It's not that it doesn't look nice, it does," Josh says, attempting to backpedal, "It's just different."

"Well, Josh, you know what? If I knew my hair was going to be a federal case here, I would have written you a memo, ok?" I snap.

"CJ," Leo says in a tone of voice that means I've probably taken a step too far.

I turn to find him standing in the doorway to the Oval. I drop my head into my hands and run my hands through my now shorter, choppier hair. "I'm sorry," I say, muffled.

"Nah, I shouldn't be giving you a hard time," Josh replies.

"It's just...everything," I sigh.

"I know," Leo says, sitting down at his desk. "It'll be over soon." Sam and Josh nod. I pause a moment, before doing the same. God, Lord, if you're listening to me, please don't let this be over today. Not today. Tomorrow would be fine, next week would be even better, just don't prove Adam right. Please don't let any of that be true. Because if it's true, I don't know what I'm going to do.

"Claudia Jean!" Josh calls from his office later that morning.

"What?" I yell back. I'd just get up and go talk to him, but I'm on hold, waiting to talk to someone about the latest polling numbers. We're running, yes, but it remains to be seen what we're going to be able to do with it.

"Wanna go swimming later?" he yelled.

"What?" I ask, not sure what he means.

"I said do you want to go swimming later?" He repeats.

"Josh, come here," I call.

"Can't. I'm on hold," he responds. I shake my head. I should have guessed. We yell at each other all the time when we both happen to be on hold.

"When do you think we're going to have time to go swimming?" I ask.

"Around 7. Sam has a meeting on the Hill until then, I'm going to meet him at the pool," he replies.

"Josh, I don't feel up to a long swim," I say. I already ran this morning for over an hour, it's not like I need another workout.

"It's not going to be long," he calls. "I've got a meeting at 8:30."

"With who?" I ask.

"Don't worry about it," he yells back.

I nod, knowing that he means he's going to be talking to his therapist. Which is a good thing if you ask me. I'm not the only one stretched too thin around here. "Still, Josh," I say.

"Hang on," he calls. I hear him start to talk to the person on the phone and wait. I'm still on hold when he comes into my office five minutes later. "Still on hold?" he asks.

"Yeah, I think they forgot about me," I sigh.

"So, swimming? I know you've probably already worked out, I just want you to come for moral support, more than anything," he admits in an unusual display of emotional candor.

"Moral support?" I ask, wanting to know why he's so gung ho about working out all of a sudden.

"Yeah. I had a doctor's appointment yesterday, and they said I've gotta start working out regularly. I just don't like working out alone, but if someone's there, I won't quit. Sam said he'd go swimming with me, but he doesn't really like to swim." He shrugged.

"Ah." I nod. "Does Sam know what he's getting into?"

"You mean does he know I've been a swimmer since I was five? No, he doesn't." Josh's eyes are lit up and I know he's looking forward to creaming Sam in the water. He'd consider it payback from the jogging Sam has dragged him on over the years.

I shake my head. "Ok, I guess I ought to come, if only to salvage his ego." I'm not a very good swimmer. I didn't learn to swim at all until I was 15, and I didn't learn to swim at all well until the first year we were in office. That year, when Josh learned that I barely knew how to swim, he decided he should teach me how to do it right. We stopped going after awhile because it was hard to find time where we could both go, and given a choice, I'd rather go running.

"Great!" he says, grinning at me.

"But no comments about me in a swim suit," I say, pointing my pen at him.

"CJ, I would never make disparaging remarks about you in swim attire. I do like the way my face is put together," he tells me.

"Damn straight," I reply.

"CJ? Josh?" Carol knocks softly on my door as she opens it. I look at her expectantly, and she continues, worriedly, "Leo says it's time, and you need to go to the Oval."

I feel the blood draining from my face as I hang up. "If they call back, tell them I'll call again later," I manage.

"Yeah," Carol says, watching us walk down the hall.

An hour later, I am sitting on a couch in the Oval Office with my eyes closed tightly against the pounding in my skull. When Leo said it was time, I assumed he meant it was going to happen within five minutes, maybe fifteen. Apparently not. He had things for everyone else to do but me, since we don't even know if I'll be giving a press conference. For one, we don't know if we'll be permitted to give one right now. Plus, if I'm indicted, there's no way I'm giving the press conference. So, I'm sitting here waiting and trying to decide if it's better for me to be indicted or for Adam to be right. Right now, indictment is looking pretty good to me. I jump as a gentle hand brushes against my back.

"Sorry," I hear Sam murmur as he comes around and settles next to me. I still don't open my eyes, but I let him squeeze my arm without pulling away. "You ok?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply.

"Ok, just checking," he says, as Toby calls him over to look at something. He squeezes my arm again and gets up. I'm inexplicably cold once he's not sitting next to me. The couch settles again and without opening my eyes, I know Josh has sat down next to me. He doesn't say anything, but reaches around and starts rubbing my neck, gently attempting to smooth out the knots in my shoulders.

I feel someone standing over me and tense until Leo says, "CJ? Can you open your eyes for me a minute?" I manage to blink and focus on Leo, who crouches down so I don't have to crane my neck. He obviously recognizes that my head feels about to explode, judging from the gentleness of his voice.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, kiddo. Listen, if we can give a press conference, do you want to be the one to give it?" he asks, and I realize he doesn't know that Toby, Josh and I already discussed this the other night.

"Yeah, unless, you know, I'm indicted," I say quietly.

"God forbid," Josh murmurs and Leo nods. Josh is safe, as are Sam and Toby. Leo and I are the only ones they would hold culpable, for reasons beyond my understanding. Sam tried to explain, but I told him I didn't want to hear it.

"Ok, then." Leo touches my knee and stands up, going over to where Toby and Sam are huddled over a laptop. Josh continues rubbing my back. I look around. The President isn't in the room, and I surmise that he's in his private office with Abbey, since I remember her being in the room when we got here, and she's not here, either. The phone rings and everyone's attention is suddenly riveted to it. Leo answers it and after a moment, holds it out to the President who has slipped unnoticed into the room with Abbey.

The President nods to Leo, who turns the speakerphone on so we can all hear. "Mr. President, I am making this call as a courtesy. You are invited to come to Congress tomorrow morning to hear my recommendations in person," Gelernter is saying.

"Yes, I understand," the President says. He's holding Abbey's hand tightly. I'm vaguely aware that Josh's arm has tightened around me.

"First of all, the grand jury does not find enough evidence to recommend indictments for Leo McGarry or Claudia Cregg." I feel Josh let out a breath, but I don't feel any relief at all. All I can hear is the blood rushing by my ears and I barely hear that there will be no indictments for the President either. I manage to drag myself back to the present long enough to hear that the grand jury is recommending that Abbey be held over to the AMA for disciplinary action, probably a suspension of her license for some period of time, and that we can't hold a press conference until after the formal presentation tomorrow morning. The President hangs up and the room explodes. I can't move. Adam was right. That means he knew this was coming. That means that his superiors fixed this. That means he can make me do what he wants me to do. Oh my God, what have I stumbled into?

The celebration swirls around me, and no one notices my silence until I try to stand up and feel the blood rush down to my feet. "Whoa, there, sit down, CJ!" Leo says, trying to reach me before I pass out. I don't actually black out, but I don't manage to sit down before I fall. Leo grabs my arm and guides me to the couch before I hit the floor. Abbey is there in the next instant as Leo forces my head down onto my knees.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I protest. "I just stood up too quickly, that's all." I feel Abbey's hand on my wrist, and Leo is handing me a bottle of water and Abbey tells me to sip slowly. I sit quietly and let her count my pulse, closing my eyes against the worried stares.

"Ok, no harm, no foul," Abbey says, in her most comforting doctor voice. "You're right, you just stood up too fast." She takes my chin in her hand and looks at my face carefully. "But, I'm ordering all of you to be out of here by 6:30 tonight. I don't care if you're not done with something, it can all wait until the morning. Everyone in this room needs some rest, and I'm demanding you get it tonight."

"I'm seconding that order," the President says in his sternest voice. "No arguments."

"CJ, honey, why don't you go lie down for a couple of minutes," Abbey says quietly. "Then get some lunch, ok? Take it easy this afternoon, too." I nod, and let her and Leo help me up. The President nods at Josh who walks me back to my office.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" he asks. "Not a problem, CJ. Tell you what," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walk down the hall. "We'll go and mess around at the pool tonight, and then we'll go get dinner, just you and me, how's that sound?"

"Your meeting," I remind him. "Ok, we'll go get dinner after my meeting. It won't take long, I'll have you home in bed by 10, I guarantee it."

"Mmm, all right," I say slowly as I lower myself down onto the couch.

"Ok then. You be ready to go at 6:30 and we'll take off. Now," he said as he draped my blanket over me. "you rest and I'll tell Carol to wake you up in twenty, ok?" I nod vaguely as my eyes close and I actually fall asleep for the first time in days.

Josh splashes water at me as I stand at the edge of the pool still wrapped up in my towel. "Get in here!" he calls.

I hesitate and shake my head. "I'm cold."

"You won't be once you get in. Come on, get in here," he says in a cajoling manner. The pool is deserted except for the lifeguard, and we're waiting for Sam.

"Mmm," I say, noncommittally, but I bend down and sit on the edge, dangling my feet in the water.

"You're going to get your towel all wet," Josh says, swimming over to lean against the wall next to my legs.

"I guess," I say.

"So just get in," Josh says, tugging gently on my leg.

"Oh, all right," I say, and slip into the water, closing my eyes as I slide under the surface.

"That's better," Josh says as I stand up, spluttering. Swiping my wet hair out of my face, I scowl at him, but he just grins. His grin turns into a frown as I turn to wipe my face on a dry corner of my towel.

"Hey, how'd you get that?" he asks. I twist and see a bruise on my side. I'd hoped it wasn't noticeable, but I guess that was wishful thinking.

"I smacked into a chair. Didn't have my glasses on and the phone was ringing," I lie glibly.

"Ouch," he says, accepting the lie.

"Nah, not so much, actually," I shrug and push off the wall to float on my back. Josh swims lazily past me as I stare at the ceiling. Forget about Adam for right now. My reverie is interrupted by Sam, who jumps into the lane next to me, splashing me without warning. "Sam!" I exclaim, capsizing and uprighting myself.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," he says, grinning.

"Boys," I mutter under my breath as Sam laughs. Josh swims back and starts challenging Sam to a race.

"Come on, Seaborn, you're not chicken, are ya?" I swear, it's a good thing that Josh isn't our speechwriter.

"I'm going clean your clock and you know it," Sam retorts and sometimes I'm not sure why he's our speechwriter either.

"Oh, we'll see about that," Josh says, pulling himself out of the water with a smooth practiced motion. "Get your sorry ass up here," he says to Sam. I duck under the lane rope and pull myself up to sit on the edge of the pool. "CJ, you're the ref. Down and back, whatever stroke you want, first person to touch the wall wins," he instructs.

"One hand or two?" I ask.

"Depends on the stroke. Butterfly or breaststroke have to be two handed touches," he says as Sam climbs out of the pool. "You ready?" he asks Sam.

"Let's roll," he replies. "Ok, CJ, whenever you're ready," Josh says.

"On your mark," I say, and both men step up to the edge of the pool. As I say, "Get set," Josh bends forward into a race start and Sam just rubs his hands together. Poor Spanky doesn't know what he's in for, I muse as I say, "Go!"

Josh is so far ahead of Sam it's not funny. He's about two body lengths ahead of Sam when he turns at the wall. I move back as he slams into the wall and pops up automatically. "Um, I think you win," I say, looking at Sam, who's still about 15 feet away from the wall. Josh just laughs, and we wait for Sam.

"Ok, I concede," Sam says, out of breath. Josh, for all the fact that the man has probably not worked out since his physical therapy ended, isn't even breathing hard.

"Told you," Josh says, ducking into the lane where I'm sitting and pulling me back into the water as he pushes off the wall.

"Somehow, I'm surprised that you didn't know that Josh was on a swim team from the time he was 6," I say to Sam.

"You were?" Sam asks, surprised.

"Yup. Did summer swim team until I went to college. I did year round swimming too, from the time I was 10 until I was 15. I could have made the team at Harvard, but I hadn't done varsity swimming and it was too hard to get on the team if you hadn't," he says, flipping against the wall and swimming for the far wall at a pretty good clip. Sam just shook his head and pushed off after him. I just smiled and returned to my previously interrupted back floating.

I was so relieved when my apartment was empty when I came home. I had just collapsed in my bed, too tired to sleep when I heard the click of a key in the lock. Swallowing fear, I manage to lie still as I hear him walk through the apartment. Maybe if I look asleep he won't do anything tonight.

"So, Claudia. What do you think now?" Don't answer, don't answer, but I know my shivering has given me away. He knows I know he's there. He bends over and I feel his hot breath on my neck as he rolls me over and looks at me. Please no, I can't respond tonight. I'm so very tired, all I want to do is sleep. It's worse if I don't respond for him, so I try to imagine his hands are someone else's- anyone else's- but I'm too exhausted to fantasize. Maybe tonight he'll just have his way with me without demanding anything from me. His hands start moving down my body as he presses himself up against me. I close my eyes and let him roam, feeling slightly sick at my unquestioned submission. He whispers in my ear, but I don't hear him. I manage to detach myself as he starts to slide his hand down the waistband of my underwear.

Contrary to popular belief, I haven't slept with all that many men. The exact number, not counting this, is five. I've heard it whispered in nastier circles that the number is three or four times as high. I will admit to having gone out on dates with maybe 20 people, but I did not have sex with all of them. Let's just say I'm pretty good at foreplay and leave it at that. But for an unmarried 35 year old woman, five is not that many. And with one exception, I was in a relationship that lasted more than six months with each of these men. The exception, of course, is Tad Whitney. Tad, however, was not my first jerk. No, that honor goes to Rick Gage, the only other relationship that lasted less than a year.

The first was Jamie Miller, a guy I met when I first got to Berkeley. And if things had been just slightly different, I probably would have married him. We knew each other for almost 4 months before we "got it on", so to speak. Neither of us had ever slept with anyone, and I remember it being rough and awkward. I barely had any idea of what to do with him, and he didn't have much more of a clue. After awhile, it became not unpleasant, but I was very young for 17, and probably too young to have been in college, and so I didn't know any better. We were together for two and a half years, and those two and a half years were probably just about the happiest of my life. Certainly they had been the happiest up to that point. Then, I got pregnant (how, I'm still not sure. We had been very careful.) and when I lost the baby we never could get it back together. I haven't talked to him since I was 21 and he left to join the Peace Corps.

Then came Rick, during grad school, shortly after I met Toby. I started going out with Rick for one simple reason: he was nothing like Jamie. I hadn't dated much after Jamie and I broke up, at first because I was so hurt, and then because I was just too busy. Where Jamie was a great guy, a real stand-up guy, Rick was quite simply an ass. It fit well with me at that point, because I didn't want to be a good girl for awhile. We went out for about six months, until Grace finally convinced me I deserved better. Rick served his purpose, better than he probably knows.

Not terribly long after Rick and I broke up, Grace and Jack died. Toby came out for the funeral and I went back to New York with him because he didn't want me to be alone. In New York, I met Christian, who came back to California with me. I'm not sure Toby or Andi approved, but they didn't stop me. And at that time, Christian was just the right guy- ready to play whenever, willing to let me lean on him, but not wanting anything permanent, which was good, considering how much traveling I did for EMILY'S List at that time. It was a nicer relationship than I expected, and we were both ready to move on after a year. I have no regrets about Christian, believe me- he's probably the one who started the whole good in bed thing.

Ah, the infamous Tad Whitney. I hated LA, but that's where I was sent, and so I went. And so Tad found me. I've heard tell that he chatted me up at a fundraiser because he thought I would be an easy lay. I was harder than he thought, but he did manage to get me into bed. And then he left. It was short, it wasn't anything spectacular, and I could have lived my whole life without seeing him again, let alone interview him for a job where he'd have to spend quite a bit of time with me. And I really could have lived without the whole Kennedy Center encounter.

The last guy I slept with, until now- which I'm not counting by the way- was Jeff Gamble. Oh, God, Jeff was almost perfect. I was with him for eighteen months, and if he'd been willing to give me about three more years, I might have married him. Andrea refers to him as the fisherman who didn't know how to play the line. He wasn't willing to wait as long as I needed, and therefore, I ran. Plain and simple. Toby asked me, just once, when we were both drunk, why I chose the nice one to run away from. I told him I'd run from all of them, and surprised myself by bursting into tears (I was extremely drunk. It was the only time he's ever had to put me to bed).

Oh, thank heaven, he's done. I feel him get up off the bed and I lie motionless as he dresses and gets ready to leave. "Now, Claudia, you have a decision to make," he says, leaning over to pin my wrists to the bed. "You know what's at stake here. It's a simple yes or no answer, but I'm feeling generous right now, so I'll give you until dawn. You better have an answer when I call or you'll pay for the extra time," he says. I don't respond, and he stares at me a minute more before releasing my wrists and leaving the room.

I wait for the front door to shut before moving. I walk to the door and make sure it's locked. Then I go into the bathroom and start running the shower. Mechanically, but gently, I start soaping my hair. The first two times I cried. The third time, I cursed, angry. Now, I've lost count, and I just feel empty as I carefully scrub the rest of me down. As soon as all the soap has been washed away, I start again with my hair, again with the body wash.

At dawn, I'm sitting on the doorstep to my apartment building, hair still wet from the shower. When he calls, I simply answer yes, and am off running before I even press the off key on my phone.

* * *

Today didn't have to be this way  
Tomorrow is another day  
Another chance to make things right  
A chance to make sense of last night  
"Tomorrow is another day," mxpx

* * *

August 20, 2001

Walking into his office, Toby found Sam sitting on the floor by his desk. "Sam? Why are you on the floor?"

Sam looked up, tiredly. "Too much effort to walk over to the chair."

"The couch is right by the door, you know," Toby said, dryly, but he sat down on the floor next to Sam anyway.

"Yeah." Sam didn't say anything for a moment. "Leo just called, they got the guy."

"They caught the son of a bitch?" Toby asked. Sam nodded. "Thank God."

"Yeah." Sam thunked his head back against the desk.

"You ok?" Toby asked, knowing it was a stupid question.

Sam was silent for a long moment before saying, "You know, I've never realized how difficult it was to be the one holding down the fort."

Toby regarded Sam as he ran through the events of the long night in his head. "You don't have to be as good at it as she is. Actually, I think we'd prefer it if you weren't. If you'll remember, that's part of why she's...we're in this mess."

Sam took a shaky breath. "Yeah."

"She's awake, you know," Toby said, suddenly realizing that Sam might not know that yet.

"She is?!" Sam said, confirming Toby's suspicion.

"Yes. She's drugged to the teeth, but she is awake," he replied. "I'm sorry no one told you."

"No, it's fine. I'm just glad she woke up. Did she say anything about what happened?" he asked.

"Carol didn't say she did, but I don't think so. Apparently, she was combative, so they sedated her right away," Toby explained.

"So, she wakes up, and they send her right back to sleep." Toby nodded and Sam sighed. "But they got the guy, so maybe the police will find out what happened soon," Sam finished.

"Maybe." They sat silently until Ainsley knocked on the door.

"Hey Ainsley," Sam said softly.

"Hey Sam," she said, walking over and putting her hand on his head. He reached up and kissed it.

"They got the guy," he told her.

"I know. Leo just told me. He wanted me to make sure you and Toby got something to eat if you won't sleep," she said, brushing back his hair.

"Then I suppose we'd better find food," Toby said, pulling himself up with the help of the nearby chair.

Sam stayed seated for another moment until Ainsley bent down and pulled on his hand. "Come on."

They walked down to the mess, which was still closed. Toby told Sam and Ainsley to sit at a table, as he went to raid the kitchen. He made sure to make some noise coming back to the table, more out of habit than out of any real belief that they would be into something. When he reached the table, Sam looked away and quickly wiped his eyes. Ainsley leaned close to him and said something softly that made him nod and get up from the table. Toby watched him go, and raised his eyebrows at Ainsley. "He's gonna wash up a minute. He'll be right back," she said blandly as she took a cup of coffee from him.

"Ah." Toby figured it would be better not to comment, and buttered the roll he'd found.

Ainsley regarded him a moment, then asked, "Did Congresswoman Wyatt know anything?"

"Nothing more than we knew. She hadn't spoken to CJ in a couple months," Toby sighed. Andrea had been very upset when he'd told her what was going on. It had taken the better part of an hour to calm her down enough for him to feel comfortable leaving her. He knew Andrea felt guilty about not keeping in closer contact with CJ, but he knew that she had the mistaken notion that CJ didn't want her to. The opposite was true, but CJ didn't know how to go about doing anything about it. For all her talents, Toby thought, CJ may well be the most socially inept of us all.

Sam returned presently, and accepted a cup of coffee. "So, what happens next?" he asked.

"Other than waiting for something to happen? I don't know. I guess we should talk to Leo," Toby said.

"Probably," Sam said, eating a sweet roll.

"Well, let's finish eating first," Ainsley said, eliciting a small smile from Sam.

"Of course," he said to her.

"Leo?" Sam asked, knocking gently on his door. Leo looked up from his desk and saw Sam, Ainsley and Toby standing in the doorway.

"Come on in," he said, taking his glasses off. "Did you eat?"

Toby nodded. "Any news?"

"Not so far. The police said they'd call once they finished with Cardington, but not to expect a call until after 6." Everyone instinctively glanced at their watches. It was only 4:30. "So, it's going to be awhile," Leo sighed.

"And from Josh?" Sam asked.

"He called a few minutes ago to let me know that Carol is coming back here after she finishes her breakfast, and that he or Donna will probably be here by 7. There's no change in CJ's condition, and right now she's so drugged she barely knows her own name, let alone what happened to her." They all nodded.

"So what happens now," Sam asked again.

"Now? Well, now we all get changed, or get cleaned up, or whatever needs to happen to be ready for the day. All we can do right now is wait for the police to call, and as cold as it sounds, we might as well be productive while we wait," Leo sighed.

"It's not cold, Leo," Sam said softly. "CJ would be the first to be doing something."

"Very true," Toby said, agreeing.

"Well, then, we'd best get doing something," Leo said quietly. "I will let you all know if I hear anything new."

"If _anyone_ hears anything new, we should definitely relay that," Sam said.

"Of course," Leo said.

"Then let's get on with it," Toby said softly as he turned to leave.

"Senior staff at 7," Leo said as they left. Sam waved to let him know he'd been heard, and he sat down heavily at his desk again to stare blankly at the paperwork in front of him.


	6. Parley and Negotiated Surrender

5. Parley and Negotiated Surrender

* * *

Summer goes on and then dies quick   
Without much warning.   
All things ordinary.   
Will you stay near me now,   
Don't leave this town, until we've figured out,   
Between the two of us we're strong enough-   
I feel that in your touch.   
"All Things Ordinary", The Anniversary

* * *

August 29, 2001

She's sitting on her bed staring out the window when I get to her room. She is so very thin- the scrubs they've given her hang off her hips and her shoulder blades stick through the back of her t-shirt. She turns when I knock and nods blankly when I ask if I can come in. I set my backpack down and sit in the chair by her bed, careful not to get too close. She's flinched away from anyone who's tried to touch her, something I suddenly realize had been happening before. We study each other. Someone had convinced her to shower since I'd been here last night, and her hair was slightly curled about her face. The hair and her new glasses made her look very young for some reason, and I wanted nothing more than to just gather her up and make all of this go away. For obvious reasons, I didn't.

"Where'd you get the butterfly?" I ask, finally, indicating the stuffed animal sitting on the nightstand.

"Sam brought it." She manages to meet my eyes, and I wonder how much effort that took her. I nod.

"So, they tell me they're releasing you tomorrow." She nods. "Where are you going?" I ask softly. She doesn't answer, but looks away. "CJ. Where are you going?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, hedging.

"I know you're not staying here. Where are you going?" I say, moving so I'm in her line of sight. I know I'm powerless to keep her here now.

"I'm resigning, Josh," she whispers, still not looking at me.

My heart almost feels like it's breaking as I whisper back, "I know, CJ." I'm finally admitting that I've known for months that she wouldn't make it all the way.

"I can't...I can't do this." She stands up and starts pacing slowly. I almost smile as I move back to give her room. Even as wiped out as she must be, she still needs to move in order to think. "Toby's right. LA was killing me. This was better, but..." she trails off and faces me. "I am not the person you think I am."

I cock my head as I look at her. "All right."

"I am not a public figure. I..." She takes a deep breath. "I loved working at the White House. I loved my friends. I loved the excitement and the way we felt when we did something right. I even loved the bad days when we didn't do things right. And sometimes, I even loved my job. But I never got used to my job, do you understand?"

"No," I reply, honestly.

"I was good at my job. I made a great spokesperson. I handled the press and made us all look good even when we screwed up but bad. But I never got used to being the girl on the TV. I never got used to being the first line of defense. I never got used to being a target." She looks at me with pure entreaty in her eyes, and I suddenly understand. She believes this would not have happened had she not been the public face of the administration. And the worst thing is, she's most likely right. I nod slowly as she continues. "I tried to make myself into what you all wanted, what everyone needed. But I'm not that person. I can't do this anymore. I've never been that girl on the TV. I've always wanted to be her, but I'm just _not her_!" She's yelling now, her uncasted hand knotted in her hair. "I can't be the spokesperson. I can't be the public figure, do you understand? I don't know that I _want _to be! I don't know that I ever _did_. I just knew Toby needed me to come to New Hampshire. And once I got there, I just couldn't _leave_. I was tangled in this awful, beautiful thing and I couldn't break free of it, no matter how hard I tried. I was the girl on the TV, and how could I desert you?"

Her knees buckle as her voice cracks. I'm out of the chair and catching her arm before she can even flinch. I carefully maneuver her back to her bed and back away slowly as she sits down. There are tears trickling down her face now. She looks at me and I just nod. "I know, CJ. I understand. It's all right."

"Don't tell me things you don't believe, Joshua," she says through her tears.

"Oh, but CJ, I do believe. I do believe." I take a chance and move over to the bed, grabbing a tissue as I sit down next to her. She doesn't flinch as I gently wipe the tears away. "Don't you remember what I said about being glue?"

"Kinda," she says in a quivery voice.

"I told you I wanted to make you sticky enough to hold yourself together, didn't I?" I ask, brushing her hair from her face.

"Yeah," she nods.

"And I said forget about what we need and take care of what you need, right?" I ask, handing her another tissue as she sniffs. She manages a nod as she blows her nose. "So then, what makes you think this is any different? Why would you think I would understand any less now than I did then?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. Stupid, I guess."

"You are most definitely not stupid, do you hear me," I say sharply. She swallows hard and nods. "Good. I don't ever want to hear you say that again." She nods again. "Especially," I say, my voice softening, "since I spent a considerable amount of time defending your intelligence the other day."

"You did?" She asks, astonished.

"I most certainly did," I tell her. "Someone, I can't remember who, I don't think I was paying that much attention, but someone said they couldn't understand how stupid you could be to think that you couldn't have come to us for help. I lectured everyone in that room about the fact that you are a highly intelligent person who's had some hard knocks and was most assuredly not stupid. Claudia Jean, you may have done a somewhat unintelligent thing, but that does not make you stupid. I mean, if it did, then my IQ must be in the single digits, right?" She actually laughed at that. "See, there you go," I say, smiling.

CJ nods and suddenly reaches out, touching my arm "I'm going to California," she says, suddenly solemn.

"To see your ocean," I say, equally solemn. If she goes to California, I don't think she'll come back.

"There's a...place there. They have...they have a program," she says slowly, gauging my reaction.

"12 steps?" I ask, only half facetious.

"No. Not at this place, anyway. I've never heard of an Anorexics Anonymous, but Leo says there's 12 step programs for everything," she says, shrugging.

"Hmm. Interesting." I say. "Well, if anyone would know, Leo would."

"I know." She doesn't say anything for a minute. "Leo found it. He says it has a very good reputation."

"And your therapist thinks it's a good idea?" I ask.

"Kris says that if Leo hadn't found it, she would have found one for me. But I have to be willing to go," she says, slipping her hand into mine. I find it strangely comforting and disconcerting all at once to feel her too skinny fingers around mine.

"Are you?" I ask.

"I am now. I wouldn't have been until now," she says, quietly. "This is about more than what happened."

"I know," I say quietly.

"It's like a trigger, does that make sense?" she asks.

"Yo-Yo Ma," I reply, smiling sadly.

"Or bagpipes," she said, with the same sad smile.

"Exactly," I say.

She looks at me for a long moment, then says, "Kris says I don't have PTSD."

"I didn't think you did," I tell her.

"I thought I did," she says, looking down.

"I could understand why," I say, following her gaze to her hands.

"I've never been this thin," she whispers. "Good," I say. She looks up startled. "I don't mean it's good that you're this thin, although, CJ, thin is not exactly the word I'd use."

"I think Sam wanted to say emaciated, but he didn't," she says.

"He probably did. I give him credit for not saying it," I tell her, as gently as I can. "I'm just glad that you haven't done this to yourself on this scale before."

"I never thought I was fat, Josh. It wasn't that," she explains.

"Ok." I don't know a whole lot about eating disorders, but I mean to look into it. Donna probably knows something, or where to look, because I bet she already has.

"I'm scared," she admits.

"Me too," I say.

"Leo says it will be the hardest thing I've ever done. He says it'll be humiliating, and painful, and I'll have to work very hard." she says. "But he says I'm a tough kid and I'll make it if I want to."

"You are and you will," I agree. I hesitate, but then ask, "How long is the program?"

"I don't know yet. At least a month. Probably two months, judging from what I read on the website," she says.

"So what happens in two months?" I ask, aware that it's probably a pushy question, but I really want to know what she plans to do.

"I'm not sure yet." She looks out the window. "I don't know that California is home anymore."

"Where's home?" I ask softly.

She shakes her head. "I don't have an answer for that." Turning her attention back to me, she says, "I would have thought this was home, but I don't want to be here right now. But I don't know that I want to leave forever." She looks out the window again, focused on something I can't see. "You were right when you said it was time to stop running. That's not any less true now that I'm 35."

"Ok," I say, not wanting to push further.

She looks at me, and gives me a smile that's faintly reminiscent of the wry grin she often favors me with. "Just because I don't know where home is, doesn't mean it's not here," she says.

"You can have more than one home," I tell her.

"Yes. Yes I can," she says, in a strange voice. I look at her carefully, but don't respond. We sit quietly, her hand still in mine. When she finally speaks, I'm startled. "I want to leave now, but I want to come back, too."

"You can always come back," I say, softly.

"Can I?" she asks, and I'm surprised at the uncertainty in her voice.

"Definitely. I promised you'd never be alone, didn't I?" I say, squeezing her hand.

"You did," she agrees judiciously.

After a moment, I reach down and grab my backpack. "I have some things for you," I say, pulling a grocery bag out of the pack.

"You do?" she asks, confused.

"Yup," I tell her. I hand her the bag and she hesitates.

"Even though I'm leaving?" she asks.

"Because you're leaving," I reply.

"Even if I said I wasn't coming back?" She looks at the bag in her lap and lets go of my hand.

"Especially if you said you weren't coming back," I assure her.

"Oh." She opens the bag and pulls out the first package. I watch her study the small flat package.

"That one is from both Donna and me. She'll probably come by later, but we wanted to make sure you got it." She nods, and carefully tears off the wrapping paper. It's a small book called "I Hope You Dance." Donna and I found it at the card shop while looking for a get-well card. I watch her open it and read what Donna wrote on the first page: "This is for CJ from people who love her because she needs to know." CJ flips a few pages and blinks at the words she encounters. They read "This is from me to you. This is the truth." She takes a deep breath and turns the pages, reading some carefully, and only glancing at others.

Finally she looks up at me, and whispers, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. There's more in there," I indicate the bag. CJ turns her attention back to the bag and pulls out the largest package. It's soft and she unwraps it to find the shirt from the set of pajamas she gave me when I was convalescing.

"It's going to be much too large for you," I warn.

"I don't mind," she says, looking up at me with wonder in her eyes.

"Read the note," I say quietly. She looks at the note I had attached to the front of the shirt. It read "Armor for the battle." "The President and I spent a long time talking about battle this past week while we waited for you," I explain softly. "He says he's been thinking a lot about things like Ancient Sparta where they sent warriors out telling them to come home with their shield or on it, and that sort of thing. Well, you know how he is, and he'd just finished reading some book about the history of armor and armament, so we talked about it quite a bit."

"I see," she says, rubbing the soft cloth. "Thank you." Her eyes are saying more than her words and I find my own eyes fighting back tears.

"Open this next," I say to distract myself, pulling a third package out of the bag.

"Ok." She complies and unwraps another book, this one being rather battered and bent. "The Elegant Universe," she reads.

"A very good book," I say, with my own wry grin.

"Psychics," she says under her breath. I don't say anything about it, but give her a long suffering look.

"It helped things make more sense somehow."

She reads the blurb on the back and nods. "Maybe it will."

"Maybe." She puts the book down. "There's one more." CJ unwraps the small box and sits and stares at it. It's obviously a jewelry box and I nod to her. "Go on, open it. It was meant to be your birthday present. I've had it since January." She gives me a quizzical look. "Just open it." She does so, and pulls out a simple silver necklace with a charm and stares at it. The charm is also silver, with a lily carved into the flat surface rimmed with small green stones.

"You were watching me," she says, astonished.

"Of course I was." In January, we had taken a trip out to New Mexico, and CJ and I had slipped away with Sam and Donna to an outdoor market during our lunch break. Donna had always said if she went back to the Southwest, she was going to buy herself some turquoise jewelry, since she hadn't been able to during the campaign. Sam had wanted to get his mother a birthday present, since her birthday was in February and he wasn't going to be able to go home and see her. So, we'd spent some time at a jewelry seller's table. CJ had looked at this necklace for a very long time, and I could just see her weighing her available money and her budget. I thought she might actually buy it, but the seller only took cash and she didn't have enough. It wasn't very expensive, about $25, if memory serves, but I knew she thought it was probably too expensive for the necklace itself.

"I didn't think you'd bought anything," she said, frowning.

"Well, Donna dragged you off to look at another table while Sam was paying for the pin he bought for his mom, so you weren't standing there when I bought it. I got Sam to get you to look at a blanket to distract you and I gave it to Donna to put in her purse. I told her to make sure it got in my luggage without you knowing about it, and she did." I hesitate a moment, then continue. "For the record, I remembered your birthday. I had planned, before everything went to hell, to take you out to the Cactus Cantina for either lunch or dinner. Clearly, that wasn't going to work, but I was still going to give you this. When I got to your office, though, it was pretty obvious that it wasn't the right time, and then it really never was. I got the impression you didn't want to do anything about it, so I just kept quiet and decided to save the necklace for Christmas. I didn't find out that you hadn't even remembered it was your birthday until later, when Toby mentioned it."

"Wow," she says.

"Here," I say, and take it from her in order to put it on. "It looks good," I say, trying to ignore the way it just falls between her prominent collarbones. "I thought you might need it more now than in December."

"Josh, thank you," she says, looking overwhelmed.

"You're welcome," I say quietly. She looks exhausted, and I smile. "Come on, let's get you back into bed, yeah?"

"Mmm, yeah," she says, through a yawn.

"Ok, come on," I say, standing up to help her pull the covers down. I tuck her in gently and kiss her forehead. "Sleep tight."

"Josh?" she asks, almost asleep.

"Yeah?" I smooth the sheets carefully.

"They said you can't come with me tomorrow." She sounds a bit scared and a bit regretful.

"I know. That's why I came tonight," I explain.

"'M sorry I yelled." She's fighting sleep to make sure all this is all right.

I reassure her. "I'm glad you yelled. I've been waiting months for you to yell. It's all right. I'll be here whenever you need me."

"Ok," she managed.

"Go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow," I say softly.

"Miss you," she says, just before her eyes close completely.

"I'll miss you too," I whisper. I watch her sleep for a moment, then leave quietly.

* * *

The things we do to the people that we love   
The way we break it is something we can't take   
Destroy the world that we took so long to make   
"The People That We Love," Bush

* * *

August 12, 2001

"Adam, really, I'm going to be here really late," I say into the phone. It's already late, but I have so much to do that there's no way I am going to be leaving here until at least 2am. I'm chasing a rumor that no one seems to know how or where it started. Someone apparently thinks we want to dump Hoynes from the ticket and add someone else. While I won't deny that the thought has crossed our minds, we aren't ready to deal with that idea just yet, and we're certainly not ready to discuss possible replacements. It doesn't help that one of the people the rumor mentions is Andrea Wyatt, which creates allegations of nepotism. Toby was livid, Andrea is reportedly not pleased (although, if we were to offer it, she probably would have taken it before this) and Leo just looked at me and said "fix this". I hate these sort of things. "No, I'm not just saying that. I really am busy," I sigh. "That is really unfair," I say annoyed. "I am not!" I yell. "No, don't...please don't. Fine, do what you want, you will anyway." I turn at a noise behind me, and find Josh standing in the doorway between our offices. I hadn't thought he was still here. I give him a Look and wave him away but he doesn't go. I give him my Death Look as I say to Adam, "At least 2, probably later...It's called doing my job," I sigh. "I can't promise that...Fine. I'll be there before sunrise. Yeah. Bye." I manage not to slam the phone down as I glare at Josh. "What?"

"Who was that?" he asks.

"Why do you want to know?" I mutter as I turn back to my list of people to call. "I'm busy, Josh."

"Not so busy to call someone and say you'll be late," he comments.

"He called me, and did I listen to your conversation with your mom this morning?" I ask, irritated.

"Enough to know I was talking to her and to tell me to say you say hello," he replies.

"You told me it was her when I walked into the room. I wasn't eavesdropping," I retort.

"You knew I was talking to her," Josh waves dismissively. "That's not the point. The point is I don't think I like the way he was treating you."

"What?!?" I say, incredulously. "Just how is that any business of yours?"

"I'm just looking out for you," he explains.

"And what makes you think I need looking after?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Well, CJ, you don't have the world's greatest track record for taking care of yourself," he replies with insufferable calm.

"Not your life, Joshua," I reply warningly.

"No, but I don't think you're seeing the big picture here. I don't think he was treating you right. Who is he, anyway?" he asks.

"It's none of your business who I talk to, or who I go out with," I say slowly, trying to keep a rein on my temper.

"Claudia Jean, you've picked some real winners in the past. I just want to make sure he's not going to hurt you," he says, attempting to be soothing.

"I'VE WHAT?" I ask. "_I've_ picked some winners? And you haven't?"

"CJ, come on, you went out with Tad Whitney," he snaps, getting annoyed.

"I was 29. 29, Josh. 6 years ago, Joshua. I think I've managed to grow up a little since then," I grit out though clenched teeth. "And I'm only not saying what kind of winners you've picked because we decided we weren't discussing her anymore."

He knows who I mean, and his mouth opens to say something about Mandy being different, but he stops. "CJ, come on, you must be crazy..."

I cut him off before he can finish the sentence, "Oh, and you would know from crazy?" As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. The color drains from his face, and I feel no satisfaction at scoring a direct hit. I don't say anything, but I'm about to cry and he's got to be able to see that.

"Hey, can I go home?" I hear Donna say as she comes up behind him. She stops short when she sees the looks on our faces. "I'm sorry, I'll just wait out here," she says, but Josh turns to stop her.

"No, what did you want, Donna?" he says, turning away from me.

"I'm gonna go home if you don't need me," she says, uncertainly.

"Yeah, ok, just tell me what you've got on McNeely first, I want to finish that memo," he says, turning and shutting the door behind him. The door between our offices is almost never shut. Only when Josh is having a high level discussion and I might have press in my office, which is unusual, since most high level discussions happen other places than Josh's messy office. I stand and stare at the closed door for a very long moment. I consider apologizing, but decide not to. He won't listen now, and I'm not the only one who scored a touch.

About 20 minutes later, Donna pokes her head into my office. I still hadn't managed to pick the phone up and start making calls. "You all right?" she asks, softly, glancing at the closed door.

"Donna, I didn't mean it," I whisper.

"Of course you didn't. He knows that, let him get over being stung and it'll be fine. Besides, he knows he got you too, otherwise you wouldn't have said it," she says gently. "It'll be all over by the end of the week, you'll see."

I feel relieved that she's not giving me grief for hurting him, since Donna can be awfully protective of him. "Yeah," I say softly.

"Good luck on the hunting," she says, sympathetically before she ducks back out.

"Thanks," I say, as I pick up the phone again.

It wasn't over by the end of the week. Josh is avoiding me completely, and it's driving me nuts. The President, Josh and Toby are going to Seattle today- I was meant to go, but Leo decided he wanted me here instead. I don't know if it's because of the fight with Josh, or if he has something else in mind, but I really wish I was going because it would be a legitimate excuse to not be in town so I wouldn't have to deal with Adam. I've been not going home, and someone's going to notice soon, I think as I walk down the hall to Toby's office. I want to know where Josh is, because I don't want him going all the way across the country before I can apologize. "Toby? Are you busy?" I ask as I walk into his office.

"What do you need?" he asks, looking up at me.

"Where's Josh?" I squirm a little as I ask.

"He's on the Hill, he'll be meeting us at Andrews." Toby gives me a close look and puts down the papers he was reading. "Ginger," he calls out, "I'm going to lunch."

"Ok!" She yells back.

"Oh, Toby, I told Carol I'd be back in a minute," I protest as it becomes obvious he means for me to go eat with him.

"And tell Carol CJ is with me," He yells at Ginger again. "There. You're covered, come and eat."

"I'm not hungry," I explain as I follow him down the hall.

"I am." he says, simply. We're quiet as we reach the mess. He gets the daily special- tortellini with alfredo sauce- and looks at me expectantly. I sigh and tell the waiter I want chicken soup and a salad. I'll have to eat it too, because Toby won't let me get away with just picking at it. "So," he says as the waiter moves away. "Tell me about it."

"There's not much to tell. He said something I don't think he meant the way it sounded and I said something I didn't mean at all." I shrug.

"And now he won't let you apologize," Toby sums up.

"Yeah." I swirl my straw in my water like a 5 year old.

"There is a solution to your problem," Toby says after a moment.

I look up. "What?"

"You could write him a note, and I could be persuaded to give it to him on the plane," Toby says slowly.

"Persuaded?" I ask. I want to know what I'll have to do, first.

"If I give him the note, you have to try and eat your lunch." Toby says, looking at me directly.

"I'm eating, Toby," I say, responding to the unsaid charge.

"I didn't say you weren't. I said you have to eat your lunch." I wonder how much he knows and what he wants to do about it. I think for a moment.

"Ok," I sigh.

"Ok, then." Toby regards me for a long moment. It's the same look he used to give me when he wanted to make sure I wasn't lying to him. I look back blandly. I've gotten better at keeping things off my face. Politics has been useful for something. The food comes, then, and I proceed to eat my chicken soup slowly. I have to take what recourse I find, and I don't want this to continue. The soup actually feels reasonably good going down, even though it's August. I always feel cold now, despite the heat.

"M'Garry," A sleepy voice silences the telephone ring.

I swallow and manage to say, "Leo?"

"CJ?" He sounds more awake now, and I feel bad for waking him. "What's wrong?"

"Um, I'm at the ER," I start, but he cuts me off.

"The ER? What happened? Is Sam hurt?" he asks, rapid fire. Sam, Leo and I are the only ones in town. Toby and Josh are still in Seattle with the President.

"No, Sam's fine, I think. I, um, fell." I explain.

"Fell? Are you all right?" There is no mistaking the concern in his voice, and it makes me want to cry.

"Sort of. They think I broke my arm," I'm half dizzy from the pain. "I'm sorry to call, but..."

Leo cuts me off again. "Which ER?"

"Georgetown," I reply.

"Hang tight, I'll be there in about 15 minutes," he says in a tone that I know better than to contradict.

"Ok," I whisper.

I must have dropped off somehow, because I'm curled up fetal on the examining bed when the nurse brings Leo into the room. "How do you feel Ms. Cregg?" the nurse asks.

"It hurts," I admit.

"Well, I have something for that, if you like," the nurse said, holding out a cup of pills. I raise my head to take the cup and swallow them quickly. "Good. The doctor is looking at your x-rays now, someone should be in soon."

"Thanks," I say, and look at Leo.

"Hi, kiddo," he says, sitting down in the chair.

"I'm sorry to wake you up," I apologize. "Sam and Ainsley went out to dinner tonight and I didn't want to.." I trail off, because I realize I just implied that Leo wouldn't have had a date.

"No, no. I don't mind in the least. I'm glad you called," he reassures me. If he's insulted by my implications, he doesn't show it. "What happened?"

"Oh, it was so silly," I say, aiming for blithe, and hoping that if I'm falling short, it's not in the range of scared. "I was going down to the storage room to get something out of a box and I slipped on the stairs, tumbled down and landed wrong."

"Stairs were probably wet, it's been raining off and on," Leo says, nodding. I nod back, relieved he accepted the lie. It's a reasonable lie, even if it hadn't been raining. We may tease Sam about being clumsy, but I'm honestly ten times clumsier- I mean, so far as I know, Sam hasn't walked into a swimming pool...twice. I think everyone just tends to ignore my clumsiness because I just look graceful. "How did you get here?"

"Ambulance. One of the people who lives on the first floor called 911 for me, but she couldn't leave her baby, so she didn't come with me," I explain. That part is honestly true. No one was in the stairwell when Adam pushed me down, and no one would have noticed the yelling from my apartment, or at least no one would think it unusual- the walls are soundproof enough that you can't make out words, so no one would have heard what we were saying. Even without Adam, loud voices from my apartment aren't unusual, since Toby or Josh often come over, or I talk to them on the phone. We weren't yelling by the time we reached the hallway. It would arouse suspicion.

"Oh, ok," Leo says. He looks about to say something else, when the doctor comes back into the room.

"Ok, Ms. Cregg, you've managed to fracture your arm right below your wrist. That's pretty good news, actually, since you won't have to have a cast all the way up your arm. Dr. Reynolds, here," he says, indicating a blonde woman who followed him into the room, "is going to take you to the plaster room and get you all taken care of, ok?"

"Yeah, ok," I say, and get into the wheelchair that Dr. Reynolds pushes in front of me. "I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to wait here," Reynolds says to Leo.

"Right," Leo says. "You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, hoping he can't see through my bravado. "All right then. I'll be here," he says, as Reynolds pushes me down the hallway.

"We call it the plaster room, but that's something of a misnomer," she tells me as we turn the corner into a well lit room. "You're actually getting a fiberglass cast. They're lighter and more comfortable."

"Oh," I say as she wheels me over to a table and motions me to put my arm up on a board. "Ever broken a bone before?" she asks absently as she gently unwraps the ice packs and splint from my arm.

"My collarbone," I say, wincing as she lifts my arm up from the splint.

"No cast for that one," she says, laying my arm down as gently as she can. "Sorry."

"It's ok," I say, trying to relax.

"Now, usually, I let my little patients choose a color," she says, smiling at me, "but most adults opt for the basic white."

"White will be fine," I agree.

"Easier to coordinate with," she says, nodding. She works quietly for a moment, and I try not to wince too much. I'm very glad they gave me the painkillers before this little operation. "So what happened?" she asks.

"Fell down the stairs," I say blandly. "They were wet."

"Yeah, what with the rain," she says. I'm not lying about what happened, just about the circumstances under which it happened. Completely different things, nothing to arouse suspicions in anyone. Keep your mouth shut, Claudia Jean, you don't need any more trouble than you've already got. "Did you hit your head?" she asks.

"I'm not sure. It doesn't hurt much." I reply.

"Well, how about I ask you some quick questions, just to make sure you're all intact up there, ok?" she asks, as she starts winding the fiberglass around my hand. "Ok," I say, uncertainly.

"Did you eat breakfast?" she asks, and I immediately see where this is going.

"Yes," I lie.

"What did you have?" she asks.

"Coffee, yogurt and a Danish," I say without thinking too hard. It seems a reasonable breakfast, and I really did have the coffee.

"How about lunch?" she asks. "Salad and a sandwich," I say, thinking a little harder.

"Mm-hm, and dinner?" I bite back a curse as she moves my thumb. "Sorry,"

"It's ok," I grit out. "I had a chicken Alfredo frozen dinner," I say, once I've caught my breath. I really did, too. Sam microwaved 2 dinners because we were working on something and I managed to choke most of it down, despite the fact I wasn't at all hungry.

"You're not much of an eater, are you," she comments generally as she winds the cast up over my wrist.

"It was a busy day," I say.

"Looks like you have a lot of those," she says, looking me up and down. I just look at her and hope I don't look too defensive. She doesn't say anything further, just keeps working on my cast. "There, all done."

I look at it for a moment. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, you want to keep it dry, but don't worry if it gets a little bit wet. It's somewhat waterproof, so don't worry about washing your hands or being in the rain. But you need to wrap a grocery sack around it or something when you take a shower or a bath. Or if you were to go swimming," she explains as she wheels me back to my room.

"Right," I say. "How long does it need to be on?"

"Well, that depends. Probably about 6 weeks. Some people say it helps if you take a calcium supplement and eat dairy foods, but the jury is kind of out on that one. I say, if it makes you feel like you're doing something, it can't hurt. Also, if it starts to itch unbearably, take your blow-dryer, set it on the coolest setting and aim it at the opening. It helps a lot. Don't get anything underneath the cast though- if you do, it can get the skin underneath infected," she warns.

"Ah. Ok." I look up at Leo as we reach my room. "All done," I say, trying on a smile.

He's on the phone, but he smiles back. "Yeah, she just came in, do you want to talk to her? Yeah...ok, I'll let her know. Yeah, see you tomorrow. Oh, ok. Here," He holds the phone out to me. "The President wants to say hi."

"You called Seattle?" I ask incredulously. He nods and I don't have time to say anything before the President is talking to me.

"Claudia Jean? You're all right?" he asks.

"I'm ok, sir. It was just a slip," I explain, trying not to feel lousy about lying to the man who sees me as one of his daughters.

"Well, you take care of yourself and do what the doctors tell you, all right? Don't get all stubborn on them," he chides me gently.

"I won't, sir," I assure him.

"Good, because my wife is in DC and I have no qualms about siccing her on you if I hear it's necessary!" he says, but I can hear the warm smile in his voice.

"No sir, I'll behave." The First Lady would have my secret out of me in minutes. I really would rather she was somewhere like...oh...Kazakhstan.

"All right then," he says.

"Oh, Toby wants to say something."

"Ok," I say, and wait to hear Toby's voice.

"So, you're causing trouble," he says with his characteristic quiet indifference.

"A little, I guess," I answer, in kind.

"For someone who hates hospitals..." he lets the sentence trail off, and just sighs slightly theatrically.

I grin, just a little. Every once in awhile, Toby is a sweetheart. "Yeah, well."

"Ok. Just wanted to check," he says, suddenly serious.

"You've checked," I say.

There's a pause, and I get the feeling Toby has turned away from the tableau I can picture in my head. "I gave Josh your note."

"And he doesn't want to talk to me." I say softly, having gathered that from Leo's end of the conversation.

"He says he hopes you feel better soon." Toby's voice is strangely flat, as though he disapproves of Josh's response.

"Thank him for me, if you would." I know he probably won't, but I feel like saying it.

"Right," Toby says in the same flat voice. "I'm going to let you go, ok?"

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." I don't say goodbye, but rather hand the phone back to Leo who listens a moment and hangs up.

"Josh says," he starts, but I cut him off.

"I know."

"Yeah." He looks at me speculatively. "Are you two going to kiss and make up or what?" he asks me in a burst of unusual spontaneity.

"Not my decision." I say quietly, ignoring Leo's actual words.

"So, you've apologized and he hasn't accepted," Leo surmised.

"Not exactly. I wrote him a note, which Toby graciously offered to give him on the plane, and he has not responded to the note as yet. In the note, I said I would be quite willing to apologize in person for what I said, if he would give me the chance." I look down at my hands because I know what Leo is going to say.

"You don't want an apology from him?" Leo asks. Apparently the script of the argument has made its way to him. Just what I need.

I manage not to say that Josh is pretty much right in saying I've picked up losers before and Adam was treating me badly. "I would, but I'd feel better if he'd just talk to me at all."

"Mmm," Leo says, and I get the feeling that someone will be giving Josh a talking-to and I feel bad for being the cause of it. It doesn't help that I figured I'd be the one on the receiving end of a lecture, but apparently, I'm not.

I'm released about an hour later with a whole list of instructions and some pain pills. Leo helps me into his car and starts driving towards my place. "Do you want me to stay?" he asks.

"Hm?" I ask sleepily. "Oh, no, I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm sure." I look out the window at the passing buildings.

"Ok." I'm glad it's Leo. Sam wouldn't have been able to let it drop.

When we reach my apartment, he gets out of the car. "Let me get what you wanted from the basement, ok?" he asks.

"Oh, don't worry about it, I don't even know what box it's in," I tell him. "It wasn't anything important, like for work or anything."

"It's no problem, CJ, I don't mind looking in a couple of boxes for you," he says as I punch my code in.

"No, no, really. It's just a book I wanted to look at, I can get it later," I assure him.

"Ok, then." We walk up the stairs silently. I'm praying Adam isn't in my apartment, but I assume he's smart enough to know that someone would be bringing me home. The whole fight was over the fact that Josh knew about him.

"The place is a mess," I mutter as I try to maneuver my keys into the lock. Leo takes them from me gently.

"Here, let me. I'm sure it's fine," he tells me. He fumbles with my lock for a moment, and I'm about to tell him the trick of pulling the knob up and in when he figures it out for himself.

"Thanks," I say softly as he follows me into the apartment.

"No problem." Leo glances around, and I'm glad we weren't throwing things tonight. That would have been a little obvious. "You call me if you need something. And don't worry about coming into work, you hear?"

"Leo, I can..." he interrupts.

"No, you can't. What you can do is curl up on that sofa and watch TV all day. I'm sure I can get the First Lady to second that order if need be."

"Yes sir," I mumble.

"There's a girl," he says. "You get some rest, ok?"

"Yeah," I say, sitting down on the chair.

"Ok. I'll have someone check up on you later, all right?" he says.

"Yeah. Thank you," I add.

"You're welcome. Go to bed," he says, his hand on the door. I nod. "Sleep tight," he says as he pulls the door shut behind him.

I lock up awkwardly because of my arm, and then go crawl into my bed, hoping for sleep.

* * *

I'll need some information first.   
Just the basic facts.   
Can you show me where it hurts?   
"Comfortably Numb," Pink Floyd

* * *

"So then," Leo said, looking around. "Where are we?"

"Josh will be here in a little while," Carol said, looking a bit stunned at participating in a senior staff meeting.

"He just wants to make sure she's calm," Donna said, slightly more relaxed.

"I thought they drugged her," Toby said.

"They did. He didn't want her to be alone until she fell asleep again," Donna replied softly.

"That's fine. I imagine he'll be there a lot. Donna, you should work with Ginger, Bonnie and Margaret to give some of his meetings to Toby or me. Reschedule anything that's not urgent." Leo directed. Donna nodded.

"Did the MDPD call?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. They've arrested Cardington because his alibi didn't check out, and one of CJ's neighbors saw him come into the building about 45 minutes before we got there. The neighbor didn't see him leave, but the estimate is that she was unconscious for about 15 minutes before we got there. He's not cooperating yet, so they don't know exactly what happened." Leo explained.

"Until CJ can tell us," Sam said.

"She may not," Donna pointed out. "Ryan told me that head trauma usually erases short term memory."

"True," Toby nodded.

"What happens if she can't tell the police what happened?" Carol asked nervously.

"It depends," Sam replied. "They have the letter she wrote to Josh. It may be enough to make the case for assault or..." he trailed off, not wanting to complete the sentence.

"The other is unlikely," Toby said, also unwilling to use the word rape. "By her own admission, she submitted," he growled.

"Under duress," Donna said, looking back and forth between Sam and Toby.

"No physical evidence. It's hard enough to make that sort of case with evidence." Leo said gently. "They will likely get him on assault, since there's corroborating physical evidence."

"Too much of it," Toby muttered.

"How long can he get for that?" Donna asked.

"It depends. The more counts there are, the more potential time," Sam answered.

"Oh, God, there's going to be a trial," Leo sighed.

"Yeah. She'll love that," Toby said quietly, knowing CJ's complete lack of comfort describing her personal life to her friends, let alone to strangers.

"Maybe they can plea bargain," Sam said.

"And let him go free?" Carol asked, slightly incredulously.

"Ok, folks, let's not deal with this right now," Leo said firmly before Sam could reply. "There will be plenty of opportunity to discuss this later. Right now, we need to take care of today."

Simon Glazer knocked on the door as he came in. "Well, no one picked up the story," he said.

"Good," Leo said. "Let's not lie, but there's no need to give the press every last detail."

"CJ was assaulted last night, someone has been arrested in conjunction with the attack. She's currently in stable condition and expected to make a full recovery," Toby said to Simon. "You don't answer any questions about who the guy is, where it took place, or anything else."

"Right." Simon said.

"In fact," Sam said, "Don't say anything unless they ask."

"I'm sure they'll start asking as soon as they discover CJ's not in the building," Toby pointed out.

"They asked when she broke her arm," Simon said, nodding.

"Well, protect her privacy as much as possible," Leo directed.

"We don't comment on the personal lives of White House staffers usually seems to work," Carol said quietly.

"Right. Except we're gonna comment, because it's going to be a matter of public record," Leo explained.

"But we can still control the story," Toby said.

"And we will," Leo said. "Believe me, we will be in control of this one."

"Ok," Simon said. "Is there anything else for me?"

"Did CJ leave briefing notes last night?" Toby asked.

"Yeah, they were on my desk this morning," Simon replied.

Unsettled, Leo was about to say something, when the phone rang. "Yeah?" he said, picking it up. He listened a moment, and said, "Yeah, we can do that. Would you like to come here, or is it better for us to come there? Sure. Ok, thank you," Leo said, hanging up the phone. "That was the psychiatrist. She's going to come over because she wants to ask us all some questions."

"When?" Sam asked.

"Now. She's coming with Josh." Leo replied. Sam nodded. "Anything else urgent right now?" Leo asked, looking around at tired and worried faces.

"No," Toby replied.

"All right then. We'll talk later," Leo said, dismissing everyone.

"When the psychiatrist gets here?" Sam asked while everyone got up to go. "

Yeah. You'll know," Leo assured him.

"Right," Sam said as he left.

"So how long have you known Claudia?" Kris asked Josh as they drove away from the hospital.

"It's CJ. Not Claudia," Josh corrected firmly. "The only person allowed to call her Claudia is her father and she doesn't even like it when he does it."

"I see. Why not?" she asked.

"Why not what?" Josh asked absently as he made a left hand turn.

"Why doesn't she like her name?" Kris clarified.

"Oh. I don't really know," Josh admitted. "She just doesn't. And well, people tend to respect CJ's wishes on these sort of things."

"Ok. So how long have you known CJ?" Kris asked.

Josh sighed, "About 4 years. Since late 1997."

"Really? I would have thought it was longer. Is that how long all of you have known her?" she asks.

"No, Toby's known her forever. But the rest of us pretty much met her around the same time I did. Leo knew of her, and I think he might have run into her a couple of times, since she did a lot with Democratic candidates and he's big in the party." Josh glanced over at Kris, who was looking straight ahead. "It's been a very intense 4 years, though."

"Oh, I bet. Where is she from?"

Josh sighed at the question. "If you ask her where she's from, she'll tell you California, and she won't be lying. She lived there for almost 15 years. But she lived in Missouri until she was 15." he paused. "I wouldn't necessarily get on her case if she tells you California. She's only openly admitted to living in Missouri to me and to a grand jury. No one else knew until after the grand jury investigation."

"Why doesn't she acknowledge Missouri?" Kris asked. It was a reasonable question, but one that set Josh's teeth on edge.

"Because, it's not who she is anymore. Look, I'll tell you about Missouri if you want, if it means you won't hit her with it immediately. I don't want to betray her confidence like that, but if it means you won't ask her, I'll do it," he finished.

"I'm not asking you to break a confidence, although, I obviously won't be discussing it with anyone else," Kris explained. "And I can't really promise I won't be asking her about Missouri. If she keeps it that well hidden, then it's obviously something important."

"I'm not denying that," Josh sighed. "It is important, but it's also difficult and painful."

"Most important things are," Kris told him.

"I don't know how it has anything to do with this, though." Josh retorted.

Kris looked at him as they pulled up to a red light. "It may have everything to do with this. Look, this is stretching confidentiality here a bit, but I'm going to do this anyway. From the incredibly sketchy medical records I've been able to get on CJ, this has been an ongoing problem. Not the abusive boyfriend, the self-destructive behavior. As near as I can tell, she has never weighed more than 150 pounds. Now, 150 pounds might sound like a lot to you, but for someone CJ's height, it's really not. You're probably about as tall as she is, right?" she asked.

"Just about, yeah." Josh admitted.

"And you probably weigh, what? 180? 190?" she asked.

"About that, yeah," he said.

"And that's about right for a man your height. Now, men tend to have more muscle mass than women, and therefore their weight ranges tend to be higher, but it would stand to reason that a woman CJ's height shouldn't weigh much less than you should. 150 is probably the least she should weigh. It should probably be more in the 160-170 pound range. Now, it seems that she was always thin, and some people are genetically programmed to be very thin, but my guess is that she's at least 15 pounds, possibly more, underweight right now. Have you ever met any of her relatives?" she asked.

"Not in person. I spoke to her father on the phone once when she was in the middle of a briefing and he called her cell phone," he explained.

"Well, if her family tends to be tall and thin as well, then she might just have a predisposition to being thin. But it's still pretty obvious that she's been doing some damage to herself. And this sort of thing has very serious consequences." Kris warned him.

Josh was quiet for a moment. "She doesn't eat. She doesn't eat, but she runs like there's no tomorrow."

"How long does she run?" Kris asked gently.

"It depends. Let's just say that Sam Seaborn went for a run with her exactly once. Now, Sam isn't a bad runner- he's in pretty good shape and fairly fast, and when she asked if he wanted to go for a run, he figured he wouldn't have any problem keeping up with her. He neglected to ask her how far she planned on going, and how fast she actually runs, and this turned out to be a tactical error on his part. He did manage to keep up with her for the first 2 miles, but after that, she was on her own. Sam told me she ran the first two miles in about 15 minutes, which is about a 7 minute mile. I don't know a whole lot about running, since I hate it, but I'm told 7 minute miles are incredible. We were waiting for her at the hotel when she got back about an hour and a half later. She didn't know how far she'd run, but we guessed it was about 10 or 12 miles. This is not uncommon," he explained. "The more stressed she is, the farther she runs and the less she eats."

Kris didn't answer as they pulled into a parking space near the White House. "Ok," she said finally. "Thank you for telling me that."

"I'm just worried about her," Josh said softly, before they got out of the car. "She's a lot more fragile than she looks, but she won't let anyone treat her like she's anything other than steel."

"People who think they're steel are often porcelain," Kris said quietly. "They won't break unless they get dropped."

"She's been dropped. More than once," Josh admitted.

"I know." They got out of the car and walked towards the entrance silently. As they walked through the door, Kris turned to Josh and said, "Maybe it doesn't have to be like this." "

But maybe it does," Josh said softly as he pulled his ID out. "And then what?"


	7. Peace Treaty

* * *

6. Peace Treaty

* * *

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome   
There is a feeling that you should just go   
Home and spend a lifetime finding out just   
Where that is   
"Cathedrals", Jump, Little Children

* * *

October 24, 2001

I'm sitting at a gate in Dulles and I don't think I've ever been happier waiting in an airport. CJ's father called me this morning and told me she's on a plane coming home, but that she didn't want to be a nuisance. Eventually, we'll have to get it through her thick skull that she is not an inconvenience, but right now, I'm too excited to be exasperated. Her dad said she looks better than she did when she reached California, which is encouraging. I glance out the window and see the plane coming to a stop at the terminal and smile. Fifteen minutes later, I spot her filing off behind a group of business travelers, looking out of place in her track pants and t-shirt. She's still so thin that her shirt hangs off her shoulders a bit, but her cheekbones aren't nearly so prominent, which is a relief. "Claudia Jean!" I call, before she can walk past me. She stops short and turns to stare at me.

"How did you..." her voice trails off as she takes a step towards me, her face breaking into one of her brightest grins. I smile back and hold my hands out to her. She crosses the space between us with a laugh as she launches herself into my arms. I fold her into a bear hug, feeling my eyes sting with tears. "God, it's good to see you," she whispers in my ear. "I didn't know you'd know I was coming. I was going to call when I got here," she says as she pulls back a bit.

"Blame your dad. He called me this morning," I tell her, drinking in the sight of her. The light that used to surround her is almost back, and there's a spark in her eyes that had been gone far too long.

"I'm glad he did," she says, smiling again.

"Let's get your bags," I tell her, wrapping a loose arm around her waist as I guide her towards the hall to the baggage claim. We don't say much as we retrieve her luggage, but then again, we really don't need to. "I'm practically under orders to bring you to the White House, but I'm sure they'll understand if you'd rather go home."

"No, no, let's go there," she replies, slinging her carryon over her shoulder to pick up one of the suitcases. "I still have to figure out where I'm going." I gently take the suitcase from her.

"Not to your apartment?"

She shakes her head, the radiance dimming a little. "I don't want to go back there."

"Then you don't have to," I say, meeting her eyes. She smiles weakly, but shakes her head as if to show she wants to concentrate on something else. "Listen," I say, "I have something to tell you before we get to the White House."

"Sure. What's up?" she asks, curiously. "Is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine, we're all doing all right. It's just that Leo and the President are going to want to take you aside sometime today. You should let them and listen to what they have to say." I told Leo that hitting her with this the first hour she's back in town might not be the right thing to do, but I know time is of the essence.

"What are they going to say?" she asks as we get into the car.

"I promised I wouldn't tell you. But you should listen." I maneuver the car out of the parking garage and pay the parking fee.

"I won't be press secretary," she says firmly as I head for the expressway.

"No, no, they know that. They aren't asking you to do that," I assure her.

"But it's a job," she says slowly. I hesitate. She really is too sharp sometimes, but I shouldn't expect less of her.

"Yes," I answer. "But I won't tell you anything more." I feel awful for hitting her with this immediately, but she needs to know before she gets there. She hates being ambushed and I know that. I don't say anything for a few minutes, but finally turn and say "You should take it."

"The job?" She asks.

"Yeah. You should take it," I tell her.

"Why?" She asks, turning towards me.

"Because you'd be good at it," I shrug.

"We'll see," she shrugs back.

"Promise me you'll listen to their argument before you make up your mind?" I ask.

She nods. "Of course."

"Good." We drive quietly for awhile. "So, how are you, really?" I ask, realizing I hadn't yet.

"Better," she replies. After a moment, she adds, "It was hard."

"I know," I say softly.

"I missed you all so much," she says, her voice breaking slightly.

"I know, I missed you too. We all did," I spare a glance and a hand to reach over and squeeze her arm. She squeezes my hand and manages a smile. She looks a bit tired, and I have no problem with the comfortable silence that falls over the car as she reacquaints herself with the DC area scenery.

"I'm sorry I didn't really write," she says suddenly. "I didn't know what to say."

"No, it's all right. I understood." Leo had told us not to expect her to write much. We were getting close to the White House at this point. "You still sure you want to do this?" I ask.

"Yeah, I want to see everyone," she replies, excited.

I grin. "Ok." She looks around her almost in awe as we walk to Leo's office. Surprisingly, we don't see anyone she knows well on the way.

"CJ!" Margaret cries as we walk towards her desk.

"Margaret!" CJ grins at her.

"He's waiting to see you," Margaret said happily.

"Ok," she turns to me and nods.

"Oh, CJ," Leo says as we walk into his office. "You look good, kid."

"Thanks." She gives him a grin. Toby burst through the door at that moment. "Hey, Toby," she says, without turning around. "Miss me?"

"Of course not," he says, casually as she turns to face him. His eyes are smiling though. She shakes her head and walks over to him. Their eyes are talking, saying what he can't say, but Leo and I both know that Toby is incredibly happy to have her right where she is. Impulsively, she squeezes Toby's arm and turns back to Leo and me.

"So, where's Sam?" she asks, laughingly.

"Meeting in Philadelphia. He'll be back in the morning," Leo tells her.

"I'm sure the President wants to see you, though," he says with meaning.

CJ's no fool and catches the meaning. "Ok."

"We'll wait here," Toby says.

She glances at him. "All right."

I give her an encouraging smile as Leo leads her towards the Oval Office. Toby and I sit down to wait. "She looks pretty good," I comment.

"Yeah," he replies. "She does." He looks at me a minute. "Does she know?"

"She knows it's a job. She doesn't know which job," I say.

"Do you think she'll take it?" he asks.

"I hope so. She promised to hear them out before making a decision," I shrug. "I think she will."

"Good." Toby nods.

"She doesn't want to go to her apartment," I say quietly.

"I don't blame her," he replies. "Where's she going to go?"

"She doesn't know yet. There's a vacant apartment in my building, I was thinking of telling her," I say.

Toby nods. "Do that. She might feel better being closer to someone she knows."

"That's what I was thinking. It's more expensive than the one she's got now, though," I shrug.

"She can afford it, even if she doesn't think she can," Toby sighed. I nod, knowing that CJ has more money that she thinks she does.

About 15 minutes later, Leo comes into the office. "Toby? Josh?" he says, nodding towards the Oval Office. We walk into the office, and find CJ smiling.

"Claudia Jean, why don't you give them the news," the President says, smiling at us. Toby and I sit down and look at her expectantly.

"I was just offered a job," she says, smiling a me.

"Oh, really," I say, trying to seem surprised. "What kind of job?"

"Campaign manager for a Presidential re-election campaign," she replies, nonchalantly

. "And did you take this job?" Toby asks.

"I don't know yet. That's why you're here," she tells him.

"I told her she could think about it as long as I had an answer either way by Friday. That being said, I think this lovely lady here could use some dinner, don't you?" the President said.

"Definitely," I say, smiling. "Where would you like to eat?"

"Whatever tickles your fancy, Josh. I am hungry enough to eat about anything," she says, grinning happily. I close my eyes a moment. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I'd heard the words, "I'm hungry" come out of CJ's mouth. "Hey," she says softly, and I open my eyes. "It's all right, Josh. It really is," she says, nodding a little.

"Oh, I know it is, sweet-tart, I know it is," I whisper. And it really is.

* * *

And it's so hard to do  
And so easy to say   
But sometimes   
Sometimes you just have to walk away   
"Walk Away," Ben Harper

* * *

August 19, 2001

"Hey," Josh says softly from my doorway.

"Hi," I say, not meeting his eyes.

"Look, I'm an idiot," he says, coming in and shutting the door. I know that's probably as close as he's going to get to actually saying "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry," I say. "I really am."

"I know." He sits down and looks at me. "I just worry about you sometimes." I don't reply, not trusting myself to not start the argument all over again. "How's your arm?" he asks after awhile.

"It's all right," I shrug. "The swelling's gone down."

"That's good. I should have talked to you on the phone," he says.

"You didn't have to. Don't worry about it," I tell him. He nods absently, and looks at me.

"CJ, I'm sorry."

I'm a bit taken aback but nod. "I know. It's all right."

"Is it?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's fine," I lie. Sure, everything's great.

"Ok," he says, softly. "I missed you," he grins at me mischievously.

I manage a smile. "I missed you, too." Josh and I have had some spectacular blow ups, but we've never not made up almost immediately afterwards. And we've never been not speaking.

"I'm going to go get some food, do you want anything?" he asks, standing up.

"No, I ate," I lie again.

"All right. Don't work too hard," he jokes. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you later," I say, trying to smile. "Josh?" I ask suddenly as his hand was on the door.

"Yeah?" he asks, turning back to me.

"Thanks for caring," I say, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Always," he says, smiling. I smile back and hope I've told him just how much he's meant to me.

Dear Josh,

If you're alone at this point, stop reading and go get someone, anyone, before you continue, ok? If you've never listened to me before, listen to me now. I'm going to hurt you in this letter. I don't want to, I don't mean to, but it's unavoidable.

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I know you'll want to look for me, but please don't. I've gone for a reason, and it's safer if you don't follow.

You were right when you said you didn't think that guy was treating me right. He wasn't. His name is Adam Cardington and he's a member of a radical group called the State of the Left. They wanted information to undermine the President's re-election campaign and other campaigns because they think the Democrats have become too centrist. So they tried to get the information from me. He threatened me, told me that if I didn't cooperated, they'd attack one of you. He told me in great detail what they'd probably do to you, or Sam or Toby. Then he told me he'd do the same thing to Donna that he was doing to me. And then he told me what he'd do if he got his hands on Ainsley. It was so awful I can't even think about it. So I let him do it to me. The bruise you saw the day we went swimming, he gave to me. And the others you didn't see. He also made it clear I would have sex with him or he'd force me, and he did when I tried to resist. So I stopped resisting. I submitted and let him do what he wanted. They fixed the grand jury to convince me that they could do what they wanted to do, and I agreed to give him the information he wanted so that he wouldn't go after anyone else. I didn't, though. Instead, I got information about the State of the Left. It's in the other files on the disk, but it's encrypted. If you think about it, you'll figure out the passwords. That's why I have to leave, so they don't know that I wasn't getting them the information, because I really think they'd kill me. He almost did when he found out you knew I was still seeing him. That's when he pushed me down the stairs and I broke my arm. So, I have to go, you see.

I'm sorry. Really, I am. Tell everyone I'm sorry and give them my love. And tell yourself too.

love, CJ

I pull the floppy out of my laptop and scribble 2 strings of numbers across the label: 022064 and 021580. The first is Josh's birthday, and I'm counting on him to recognize it. The second is the day Mark died. Josh may or may not know that one, but I think he'll figure out it's the password he needs. Half the disks in the box are labeled with dates written like that, so this one shouldn't stand out. At least that's what I hope, since I don't want anyone other than Josh finding it. I put the box back on the closet shelf, and glance around my apartment one last time to make sure I have everything I really want. The photographs in the kitchen are in my bag, as are the ones from my bedroom. My favorite books, the two small paintings from the wall that Grace and Jack did for me. Some of my favorite clothes, but not many- there were things more important than clothes to take. Nodding, I bend down to pull my shoes back on when I hear a key in the door and freeze.

"You are here," I hear Adam say in a deadly quiet voice. I nod. He's drunk, I can smell it from here. He glances around the room, and his eyes light on my suitcase. "Going somewhere?"

"We've got a trip," I manage.

"You're not going anywhere," he says in the same frightening voice.

"I have to go, I have to get back to the White House," I tell him.

"You're not going back to the White House. Not dressed like that," he says, nodding at my jeans and t-shirt. "Where do you think you're going?"

"On a trip. It's a late flight, I don't have to be dressed for work," I try to explain. "Well, too bad. You aren't going anywhere," he says, grabbing my arm. I shiver, hard, but don't move otherwise. He spins me around and shoves me in the direction of the kitchen. I stumble, but manage to keep my balance, more or less.

"Adam, please don't," I whisper involuntarily. I discovered begging didn't work 6 weeks ago, but sometimes I say the words anyway. He doesn't answer, but grabs me roughly again and pushes me up against my refrigerator.

"Thought you were going to leave, huh?" he slurs. "Well, I'll show you, missy. You're not going anywhere," he repeats. I close my eyes, not wanting to know what was going to come next. The next thing I know, I'm being spun around again and I fall against a counter. "Come here, missy," he growls, just before he shoves me into the stove, head-first. I don't even know my head made impact, all I know is I'm suddenly dizzy. This wasn't supposed to happen, I didn't want it this way. He grabs my broken arm and I scream at the sudden pain of my cast being pressed against my still tender wrist. I spin again, barely conscious. I hear a sickening thud in the distance, and realize that it's my head hitting the floor a second before I know nothing else.

* * *

Well I've been down so long   
It can't be that much longer still   
And I've been down for so long  
That the end must be drawing near   
"Down so Long," Jewel

* * *

November 5, 2001

"Ok, people, this is how this is going to work," Simon Glazer said, looking out over the Press Corps. "First, CJ is going to make an off the record statement and formally announce her resignation- that part will, of course, be on the record. She's not taking questions, so don't bother asking. Then, I will give the rest of the briefing. I will be taking some questions, but you won't get any more information about CJ than what she's chosen to give you, so again, don't waste your time asking me about her. Ready?" At the nods around the room, Simon nodded to Carol. "Ok. We're off record now until CJ says we're back on. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what she'll do to you if you don't comply." Everyone chuckled quietly. "CJ Cregg, ladies and gentlemen," Simon said as CJ came through the door.

The room was still as she made her way up to the podium. "We're off record?" she asked Simon quietly as he stepped back.

"Until you say otherwise," he nodded.

"Ok." She turned and faced the room. "Good morning, people. I'm sure you've been wondering what I've been up to and what exactly is going on, and since I consider some of you to be friends, I decided I'd share my reasons for resigning for you. I'm asking you, as a friend, to not take these reasons any further than this room. Don't worry, I know you all have to print something, and you'll get official reasons when I make my official announcement." She paused and looked around the room, making eye contact with Arthur, then Katie and Steve, and finally Danny, before continuing. "This isn't going to be the most eloquent statement you've ever heard me give. I'm not as good of a writer as Toby or Sam, and this is very difficult, so bear with me, please. This past summer, I was in an abusive relationship. And I know many of you are wondering exactly why I stayed with this guy. It wasn't because I thought I loved him, because I didn't. It wasn't because I thought he loved me, because he didn't. It wasn't because I thought this was a good relationship, because I didn't. I stayed because I was scared. I was scared of what would happen if I left." She swallowed and glanced down. "That was not the stupid thing. The stupid thing was that I didn't tell anyone I was in trouble. I ran, literally and figuratively, instead. And, as a result, I made myself terribly sick. When I finally did decide to leave this guy, he assaulted me, and I had done so much damage to myself, I couldn't fight back, even though I know how to defend myself against a larger and stronger attacker. So, that's how I got a moderately severe concussion and a couple broken ribs. However, because it was obvious that I hadn't been taking care of myself, and obvious that I really didn't remember how, certain people pointed out that it would probably be a good idea for me to take a leave of absence and go learn how to do that again. The past two months, I have been in an inpatient center in California. I won't give the name, because they don't need any publicity. When I left, I was ready to resign. Leo McGarry convinced me to make it a leave of absence so that I could change my mind when I was feeling stronger. However, as much as I loved my job, I do not think I could handle certain aspects of it at this moment in time. But, before I give you my official resignation statement, I want to publicly thank several people. I'm sure they can hear me," she said, smiling wryly at the back of the room, where most of the senior staff was standing. "First of all, Ainsley, thank you for caring for some of my favorite people when I couldn't do it myself. Carol, thank you for being an awesome assistant. I didn't mean to make the job quite so hard! Sam, I want to thank you for holding down the fort. I know it's not an easy job. Donna, thank you for pointing out the truth. Toby, thank you for letting me hit bottom. It was necessary, even though I know you didn't want to let it happen. Leo, thank you for understanding something fundamental. Mr. President, and Mrs. Bartlet, thank you for welcoming me, no matter what state I was in. And Josh," she paused a moment and locked eyes with him. "You're really very sweet sometimes." He grinned at her, and she smiled back. "So then. You've been awfully patient with me, and I hear you haven't even been abusing my deputies, so now, you can go back on record." She waited a moment to let everyone get settled in to write. "I am resigning my position as White House Press Secretary for personal reasons. I have enjoyed my tenure here, and I assure you, I have not been asked to resign. Right now, I feel I can be more useful in other capacities, so I am moving on. It's been a pleasure, folks. Simon Glazer is stepping up as my replacement, and I'll let him finish off your briefing. Have a nice day," she finished, smiling a little sadly as she looked out at the Press Corp. CJ nodded at them, one last time, then turned and stepped off. She was almost out the door, when everyone in the room started applauding. She turned with her hand on the door and smiled at them.

"Thanks, everyone," she said before slipping out the door.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

She's 35 when she reaches the summit of the mountain, the pinnacle of her career, she thinks. He's 38 when he reaches out to catch her, and manages to get ahold of enough of her to stop her flailing. But ultimately, he knows she must find her balance herself. She has to save herself. All he can do is watch and hope and pray.

She's 35 when she considers being a sacrifice. Old enough to know something of life, but too young to have it end. And the hands that reach out to grab her multiply and become a net of those who want her to know the truth, who want to see her continue. And so she tumbles, but stops just short of the precipice, just short of slipping over the edge into the emptiness. The fall would kill her, she knows. But the hands that reach out to her give her the strength she lacks to keep herself atop the ledge. And although she needs to be the one to reach out to those who would help her, she knows they will catch her and not let her fall again. So she flings her arms out, hands grazing and slipping before grasping his hands and she slumps, tired. He tugs gently and slowly as she regains enough strength to climb up to meet him, far enough away from the rim to be safe, but not far enough to be completely out of danger. He takes a tentative step away from the summit, and she follows willingly. Cautious step by cautious step they move off the path that leads to the cliff. And as the cliff slips away behind them, they find another path, a possibly safer one, that leads to another summit, for there is rarely only one path.

End


End file.
